Yesterday, I tried to be the World’s Greatest Wife. Specifically, I decided I’d make my husband my world famous tacos. Yeah, they’re world famous…just take my word for it…you don’t need to google it or research it any further.
In order to make the dinner, it required a trip to the grocery store because all that is in my fridge is Red Bull and Ketchup (my husband likes his ketchup cold, I do not condone the cold ketchup). So, on the way home from school, in the pouring rain, I stopped at Ralphs.
Let me paint this picture for you: When it’s raining, I wear my crocs. Ok, fine, I wear my crocs everyday. They aren’t the kind of crocs you’re thinking of — they are the cute mary-janes, I swear. The problem with wearing crocs in So Cal is that is never rains…so you’re walkin’ around in crocs on pavement everyday. In retrospect, that probably makes the crocs lose their traction. So, when there is a puddle, my crocs are useless. They are simply for comfort at this point.
So, once inside Ralphs, I grab the little hand held baskets to store the goods. As I did, I felt pretty good about myself if I do say so myself. I mean, I was being a SuperWife. I know it isn’t necessarily impressive that a wife makes dinner for her husband but, consider the source here. I go to school. I don’t know how to cook. I don’t eat meat. I prefer store bought food. And *I* stopped at a store during, basically, a flash flood to get stuff to make a homemade meal. I was on top of the world — at that moment, nothing could have brought me down off my high horse.
Or so I thought.
After I grabbed the basket, I swung it on my arm, and headed down the aisle to get the cheese. Apparently, the cheese shares the aisle with the water bottles. The stock-boy was re-stocking the shelves with water. And, on this particular day, one of those bottles of water had spilled on the floor — unbeknownst to me and my worn down crocs.
So, I grabbed my cheese and headed on down to find tortillas. It was in this quick swoop that I walked through the puddle of water and fell flat on my face.
I mean FLAT on my face. Not so much on my FACE, but kind of like on my stomach with my arms and legs straight out. Kinda like how one would look if they were trying to do a belly flop. I’m also fairly certain I made the same sound hitting the floor as one would make while doing a belly flop.
My sunglasses flew off my head, my basket and purse got dumped on the floor. The stock boy could not have been more apologetic. But of course he was apologetic, he saw me go to the floor like a ton of bricks. I still remember the sound I made as I hit the cold tile.
Proof that law school has ruined me: In the second that I was falling, the cause of action for negligence went through my head.
- Duty: Yep, I’m an invitee, they owe me a duty of care;
- Breach of that duty: Yep, there is a huge puddle of water on the floor with no warning signs around it;
- Causation: Yep, but for their breach of the duty, I would not be flat on my face
- Injury: Uh, hello, I’m flat on my face here. Not to mention my sheer mortification and the fact that I have to move from this part of the county so that I never EVER have to go to this Ralph’s again.
The worst part of the whole thing was after I got up and everyone made their fuss, I had to go about my shopping as if nothing had happened. I kept running into people that saw (or heard) me fall. Some of them were nice and tried to ignore me and act like they didn’t see anything…but some of them were just awful and asked me how I was and doted on me.
I am, of course, fine…I’m just a little bruised with a sore shoulder and sprained ankle. I’m sure my body will feel fine tomorrow.
My ego, however, will not recover for years to come.
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