Ice, ice baby.

No snow on the ground here this week, but our street is a sheet of glass. We've lived here for sixteen years. The first year, I slid past our driveway every time I tried to pull in. It wasn't at all unusual for me to have to round the block twice before I'd make it in. The kids thought it was all great fun.

Of course, the years have passed, and now they know better. Thomas was riding with me yesterday as I managed to *almost* stop before the driveway. He told me, of course, that he had it all figured out, and that all I had to do was "drift" in like he did. I just gave him the look. I haven't missed this stinkin' driveway in years, but with one little layer of frozen water and I was labelled an incompetent driver. Kids.

The thing about ice is that you can't always see it, and it doesn't take much to take a person down. Our front porch is very slightly tilted, meaning that the minute I step out the front door, I'll land right on my bahoofus if I don't pay attention. How that mailman manages to get on and off the porch without a major injury, I'll never know. Of course, Jill would say it's because he's so hot he melts the stuff, but I'm not even allowed to think that. I just hang on for dear life anytime I go out.

So there I was tonight, getting off work at 11pm tonight, after a wonderful night of things like "we just need to know how to go about getting married" and "I think the baby drank out of a bottle that had pee in it." (Yeah, I get paid to talk to some really strange people.) Got to my car, and was pretty darn proud of myself for doing it, till I reached for the door handle. Momentary ADD meant that I lost track of my feet, till one flew up in front of my face and the other implanted itself under my butt. I had a few choice words for myself as I realized that I had jolted basically every joint in my body, several of which were already not feeling too well.

Adding insult to injury, once I got into the car, I realized that I was gonna have to get right back out because the windshield was covered in 1/4" of ice and would need to be scraped. With my ATM card of course, because there is no scraper in that van. There is a bag of makeup, a plastic bag of invitations (for what, I have no idea), a couple of library books, a saddle, and God knows what else. At least it is slightly better then the couch debacle of last year, but still, one would think that one would find the proper implements in the car at the time that one needs it. Heck, I'm not even sure we OWN a scraper, because I've been using that same ATM card to scrape the windshield for the last three years.

I think that tomorrow will probably involve a trip to CVS for a few necessities: scraper, de-icer, and ibuprofen for "oh my aching back." You'll recognize me. I'll be the one coming in with snowshoes on. And if I could, I'd be wearing this fabulous red lace wiggle dress, complete with vintage ice on the hip, pointing "this way up, dumbie." From Damn Good Vintage.