Notes for my Children's Therapist: Let it goooooooo! (erm... or not)

Alright, that one hurt.

A lot.

For Christmas Paul gave me a Kindle - my first ever. I immediately loaded it with some new books and charged it up, ready to de-bulk my work bag that's usually holding one or two dog-eared paperbacks that I always blow through before my commute is quite finished, being left with nothing to do but stare creepily at the commuters across from me.

So I'm new to this whole Kindle thing and am so far LOVING how convenient it is. It's so small, so light, so convenient! It's even somewhat discreet (more so than carrying around a Game of Thrones tome on the packed train), and I was able to get properly immersed in a book, reading it on the train, on the platform, on the stairs within the packed herd of commuters, on the escalator, on the sidewalk to work... I'll admit it was getting a tad inappropriate.

I was reading it again on my way home this evening, all throughout the tube ride and then out into the street. I saw that I had missed a call from my husband so I called him back - he needed me to stop by Sainsburys to pick up a few things for dinner. No worries, I had my Kindle and could keep reading on my way to the supermarket.

The problem was that the book was actually quite good.

The book starts off a bit slowly, but picks up to the point that I was completely, utterly and totally inappropriately captivated. Zombified, I shuffled to the supermarket, barely registering the things going on around me. I came through the doors and reached down for a blue basket as though I was on autopilot - still captivated by the building climax of my book.

I was so engrossed in this part of the book as it built and built and couldn't get worse that I hadn't noticed that there was something slightly off about my basket. It felt a tiny bit heavier, but whatever. I made my way through the aisles, holding my basket with the pinky and ring finger of my left hand and clutching the Kindle with the same hand, positioned and gripped on top of the basket as I read hungrily, pulling items off of shelves with my right hand and staring at my Kindle. The supermarket sound system was playing 'Let it Go', which was a bit weird

I got to the soy milk right during the 'big reveal' - and in disgust I audibly gasped 'That bitch!' and threw down the soy milk into the basket, hard.

That's when things went South, fast.

It turns out that there was another basket stuck to the bottom of mine, which I hadn't noticed. The slamming of the basket with the soy milk dislodged this stowaway basket and it dropped with a thud to the floor in-front of me. I was still engrossed in the book and looked down to see what had dropped as I simultaneously tried to step over it.

Have you ever tried to change the size of a step mid-air? Once you've already started the step? You've already committed to a certain distance, there's no physical way to successfully change it in mid-air. You just can't.

I tried.

I saw it all happening in slow motion - my foot landed just shy of over the basket, stepping completely onto the far edge of the basket and causing it to flip over with the other side of the basket crashing into the back of my knee. My knee buckled and I went down, slowly and almost in an upright position with my legs collapsing under me like a wobbly, flailing octopus. My basket went flying - soy milk and cottage cheese flying through the air. My airborne basket hit a child and I was nearly down, but tried to save myself by grabbing on to the metal racks of milk jugs, swinging around the side of it like a stripper pole and now wearing the offending stowaway basket like an oversized blue plastic boot.

It was one of those epic falls.