Slip Sliding Away...

First night in a long while I wanted not to go home. First night maybe ever that I worked until eleven o'clock, straight, no chaser. (Call it a binge.)

Cold rain, ice tonight. On my way toward the ramp I was musing about what I might say to the Man Who Knows Everything, when I suddenly lost my footing and folded over, nearly toppling head-down onto the corner before I caught myself. By the end of the next block I reached a point where I had no traction whatsoever and was literally unable to take a step in any direction... An unusual sensation. I looked ahead and made a gesture of questioning futility. An encouraging (and one might say rather daring) cyclist who was coming my way smiled and told me to "Take it slow, take it slow". (Easy for him to say, with his helmet on.) I slid forward into the street and inched along, gradually reached another stretch where the sidewalk slipped me right like a Rook (to take the Black Streetlamp), scuttled forward with shrunken confidence in my boots, spun my wheels a time or two and eventually made it home without incident.

I'd already been thinking about this for the past couple weeks, while my unsalted walk has become slicker by the day... I could easily fall and crack my head open and it's not at all inconceivable that if that happened, not a soul would know or think to ask for a day or two, or even longer. I suppose it's possible that the chump who lifted my screens and busted my gate might come back and find my frozen body. One can hope. And one begins to understand how it happens that little old women die on their doorsteps without anyone noticing, and to think about perhaps getting some salt.