Let me set the scene for you. It’s 10:30pm on a Sunday evening at the end of January after a lot of snow and icy weather. It’s warmed up some so we have a little bit of snow on the ground, but all roads and driveways have been cleared for days. Our driveway looks clear, but unbeknownst to me, there is a large patch of ice by the passengers side door. The kids are both asleep in the back seat and need to be carried into bed.
After my husband pulls in and turns off the car, I step out the passengers seat then move to open the door behind me so I can carry my daughter inside. Somehow, my right foot remains solidly on a small patch of driveway without ice while my left foot lands on ice and immediately tries to slide all the way down the slant of my driveway causing me to do the splits.
Now, I need to interject at this point and tell you that my body is currently in no shape to be doing that kind of maneuver. Like, if you saw me out in public you wouldn’t be like, “yeah, I bet she can do the splits.”
Anyway, the same time that this is happening, I’ve grabbed on to the inside of the car door trying to stop myself from sliding while the car door somehow shuts and latches with my fingers inside.
So now my hand is stuck inside the car while I’m doing these impossible splits and screaming profanities. All this has happened in a matter of seconds and my husband is still sitting inside the car with no idea what is happening. Instead of jumping out to rescue me, he decides to yell, “Hey be careful! There’s a big patch of ice over there!”
I finally manage to yell at my husband to open the car door so I can free my fingers and heave myself back into a standing position. Just in time to wake up my sleeping children.
What even is my life?