It had been snowing at least an hour when I realized my cell
phone was in the car. The sleet had not
started yet (thank you God!). I had found
my old black boots when we moved to the apartment. With that good fortune, I knew I would be
fine even if the sidewalk was slippery.
I headed down the elevator and out into the snow.
The sidewalk wasn’t slippery at all. I stopped to take a picture of the snowflakes
falling. I shuffled through the snow
happily, with nice, dry feet inside my boots.
I headed back for the elevator, and the concrete wasn’t even
slippery. Then I stepped into the
elevator.
I didn’t just fall. I slammed,
then yelled, “Shit! That hurt!” After recovering, I placed my booted foot on
the floor of the elevator – as if to stand up.
It slid like oil on Teflon. I
decided that staying on my knees was the safest bet. When the door opened, I crawled off the
elevator.
Those boots are in the garbage now, and I’m going to stay
inside and pop Advil for a few days.
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