Sunday, March 21, 2010

Have I Ever Mentioned My Extreme Dislike of Ice??

If I haven't, I'm about to.

I almost did it. I almost made it an entire Colorado snow/ice season (in most places I believe it is refered to as winter; here, it's more like fall/winter/spring) without falling on my ass from ice. Slipped? Lots of times. But I never once fell.

Until last night.

I dog sit for my neighbor about once a month. It seems that it snows almost everytime that I do so. This weekend was no exception. We got 10 inches of snow and a boatload of ice on the sidewalks. (This is the setup to the story, hang in there...)

So I had to take the dog out last night and she chose the slickest, most ice covered part of the complex to walk in. It was all well and good until the way back, when I for a moment lost focus on putting one foot in front of the other and proceeded to hit a patch of ice. My legs flew up from under me like one of those over-acting comedians and before I knew it, I was flat on my back, looking at the stars while a couple of neighbors asked me if I was okay and the dog sniffed me to see if I was still alive.

The worst part? I knew it was going to happen before it did. I saw the patch of ice, thought 'I bet I hit that', and fell. And as I picked myself up, the neighbors who asked if I was okay also put in a bit about how that looked like it really hurt.

It did, but I think I just kind of shrugged it off. I know it hurts like heck today.

The good news is that I fell the way you theoretically are supposed to and avoided hitting my head. However, my elbows and various other parts are bruised like you would not believe.

The moral of the story? Don't celebrate going a whole snow season without falling until you are completely sure the season is over.


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