And Someday We All Fall Down

I was looking good. I had a great pair of shoes on with my nice black pants, cute belt and black silk shirt. My heavy black winter coat, new leather gloves and black bag finished off the look. Maybe it was a little “my dad just died” but it still looked sleek. And then…wait…wait for it…

There I go. Arms flailing, shoes spinning, eyes wide. Maintain control, must maintain control. Voices echoed in the background. “ohhhhh…OHHHHH,” is all I could hear. Blasted Federal Hill assholes. LIGHT POST. I spun and slid over to it with desperate arms outstretched. Can I make it in time? I did. Phew. That was close.

The lesson was learned with last nights close encounter. I knew it would still be icy for this morning’s commute; no way was I risking it again. I packed my four inch heels, slid on the outdoor slippers and headed out the door. It wasn’t bad at first. Steps? Good to go. I gained some confidence. First block of sidewalk? Not a problem. Let’s speed it up a bit. Rounding the corner? We have a problem.

So here I am. Wet stockings, a red knee and a bruised ankle that just refuses to stop throbbing. However, no outfit change was needed as my tights surprisingly did not rip (Target, $8- you have my strong recommendation). Winter is officially old. To quote my good friend DPack, “GET IT OUT OF MY FACE.”