Watch out for falling prices and fat women

Last Friday instead of spending my day off to work on homework, instead I went to town to help out my boss at the college. This week is the big annual fundraising auction and she needed some extra help with a few things. By the time the kids got home and Paul got home from cutting wood, I was in absolutely no mood whatsoever to cook or even slap some peanut butter and jelly together, so I picked up my purse and hollered, "I'm going to town for dinner!" and what do ya know, my whole family nearly stampeded to the truck.

After dinner, it was off to Wal*Mart because the kids all three needed gloves and sockhats for the football game we were going to the next night. Paul and I had been playing around with each other all evening and as we walked into the store, I stepped on the back of his heel. Now, mind you, I did it lightly and not enough to pull off his shoe - just enough to ya know, make him stumble a little. I giggled and he smirked and I knew by the look on his face, I was going to get a payback at some point. Sure enough, not too far into the store, he fell in step behind me and I kept looking back at him to make sure he was behaving. He had his hands in his pockets innocently enough and seemed not so very much mischevious, so I let my guard down.

Bad idea. Never trust a redneck in Wal*Mart. Ever. Even if you're married to that redneck. Wal*Mart is evil and causes those inside the store to become evil. Don't believe me? Ever taken your kids to Wal*Mart? Uh huh. I rest my case.

We were cutting through the women's socks, headed for the girl's department when the next thing I knew I was stumbling and heading for the floor. My dipshit husband waited until I was turning a corner around a rack of socks and stuck his big ol' redneck foot out in front of my clumsy self and I hit the ground. I am not a graceful person. I never have been. I can fall up stairs and can literally just fall down walking across a smooth floor and sadly, I do these things on a fairly regular basis. So whatever in the world made him think that sticking his foot in front of me would just cause me to perhaps stumble a little or even wobble a smidge is beyond me. I felt my balance just leave me - I mean, it just up and ran, what little balance I have - and my purse, which had been hanging on my arm, didn't help the situation. It pulled me towards the ground at warp speed and no matter how hard I tried to stop the downward motion, it was to no avail. I was on my knees in the sock section of Wal*Mart before I knew it. (Note to self: Clean out purse. That sucker's way too heavy.)

As with most people that fall in a public place, the thing that most hurt was my pride, although I instantly did a check to make sure my hip wasn't broken. (Hey, I ain't no spring chicken, ya know.) The kids all three gasped in horror at the sight of their mother on the ground, their mother who was refusing help from their father and cursing him as well. Kady, always the helper, quickly got over her shock and started picking up the scattered guts of my purse and Abby's inital gasp gave way to hysterical giggles. I think Sam was torn between helping and laughing and pointing. He's the middle child, bless his heart, he's never sure what to do.

Paul immediately apologized amid his gales of laughter and reached his hand out to help me up and I slapped his hand away and reached for the sock rack next to me. Of course, it wobbled precariously and Paul again reached out to help me up. He nearly lost a finger that time. I spat another curse or two at him and managed to get myself up out of the floor. Once I was on my feet again I attempted to kick my husband in the shin, but I was too discombobulated and he was too quick. I humph'd at him and turned around, purse again on my arm after KD fetched my scattered stuff and traipsed right past the scene of the crime and on to the girls' department. My face was still burning because, hey, I know that Wal*Mart has surveilance cameras and I just know there were a couple of guys back there that night replaying my fall over and over again. I imagined them going back to right when Paul stuck his foot out and then playing it back in slow motion and laughhhhhhing themselves to death. Fortunately, no associate ever came to check on me. Had I fallen at a casino, someone would've been there before I ever got up (right, Christy??), so thank God it was Wal*Mart.

Paul disappeared and I ended up having to call him to figure out where he was. It took awhile for me to call him though, because I was pretty pissed off that he tripped me in the first place and frankly, if he'd spontaneously combusted at that point, I'd have been okay with that. He was pretty meek and sweet the rest of the evening, so I forgave him, but have taken every opportunity I've been able to this week to mention spousal abuse and that I know the people who work in that department.

And to add insult to injury, what was supposed to be a shopping trip to buy three sock hats and six gloves turned into new tennis shoes for Sam, new boots for Kady, a new camouflage jacket for Paul (because he doesn't have near enough camouflage in his closet), new black pants for Kady and then well, duh, two shirts to go with the new black pants, plus a week's supply of Pop-Tarts and Eggos and a family size lasagna that would feed all of the Osmonds and the Dilly sextuplets, too. I am blaming the throbbing pain in my right knee for the overexpenditure that night.

When I was telling Tater about it later - something I was reluctant to do because my sister has been witness to many a fall by me and that woman simply cannot help but bust out into hysterical, incoherent laughter at the sight of me on the ground because I think she secretly delights in my misfortune and that she got the not-clumsy gene - she was red-faced from trying not to just bust a gut laughing. She asked, "What did you say when you fell??" I said, "I think I called him a stupid motherf***er" and Abby chimed in with, "Yep! That's exactly what you said, Momma!"