One summer when I was home from college, my mother and I went to the grocery store. We shopped for awhile, picking up everything we thought we would need for the week and then made our way to the check-out counter. As the cashier was ringing up our purchases my mother suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to pick up laundry detergent.

As the ever helpful daughter, I offered to run back and get it.

“OK, but hurry”, said my mother.

Off I sprinted, (I was much more lean and nimble back in those days), to the back of the store where I grabbed a large box of powdered soap. Holding it in both hands I ran back to the front of the store.

By this time several people had lined up behind my mother with their groceries. Without braking stride, I loped over to the next aisle with the intent of circling around the end of the counters and bypassing the long lines. However, the next counter had a chain across the opening fastened to two wire candy racks. With the grace of a gazelle I jumped over the chain – first with my right leg, then my left.

Unfortunately my left leg wasn’t as “gazelle-like” and my foot caught on the chain pitching me forward, face down on the floor where I landed squarely on top of the box of detergent. The soap exploded like a mushroom cloud of white powder, followed a few seconds later by the crashing of the two candy racks. There I was, covered by a pile of soap, broken candy bars, lifesavers and gum.

My mother looked at me, (along with everyone else within a five mile radius), then looked back at the cashier and said, “Forget the detergent, we’ll pick it up next time.”