My front porch has ten wooden steps down to the concrete walk. Early one Sunday morning in July I had just gotten out of the shower and decided I would just throw on a kilt and Tshirt and step out to get the Sunday paper. I didn't realize it had rained the night before and had blown wet pine needles all over the steps. I slipped my Keen sandals on and went out; I got one step down, my foot slipped and I fell, both feet flying out, sandals sailing into the yard and kiltfluttering up about my waist. I scraped up by back and backside pretty good but luckily the only one to find out "the answer" was one of the neighborhood cats.