I learned to walk when I was around a year old. My mother had gone to Spain to visit her youngest sister who was in the Navy and stationed there, so I was staying with my grandparents. The story goes they pushed me back and forth between them until I finally wobbled on my own, and I haven't looked back since.
Perhaps I should.
Yesterday I was running a few errands downtown, among them looking for new "everyday" flip flops. The ones I live in have no traction on the bottom and I've been slipping more and more. I didn't see anything I liked, plus my bags full of produce were getting a little heavy, so I turned back towards the car.
As I approached the curb I looked down to observe how pretty my pink toenails look when Wham! Down I went. It was actually more like wha... woah... hold on... waaaa... ahhh.... wham! Kind of a slow motion tumble. The curbs here are sloped - not the handicapped kind, you can't get a wheelchair up these - but a very steep, and slippery, curve.
My non-traction sandals hit the curb and the rest of me quickly followed. I almost caught myself so I didn't hit the ground as hard as I would've, but I still skinned half my leg and slammed my elbow onto the concrete. I popped up before anyone could ask if I was okay, then ran across the street and hopped into the car.
I'm fine, aside from a bruised elbow and a couple scratches, but I've learned a valuable lesson: next time I want to admire my pedicure, stop moving!
(There was ANOTHER boom followed by a fire, but it's becoming old news...)