“Remoted” Workday 220 / Day 337 (Tuesday)

It was rainy. A cold rain, but still warmer than snow or freezing. The frozen downspouts began to flow again, the gutters dripped less, and some of the ice on the ground liquified and flowed with the rain to the storm drain. And it was good. 

Before all these positive steps occurred, however, things were a bit different. When it was still dark, the cold rain formed a slick coating on the decks and stairs. It was apparent immediately when the dogs went out and started slipping on the stairs. A little later, when I brought the usual half-full lone bag of trash to the bin before rolling the bin to the curb for trash pickup day, I stepped onto the side deck and despite being careful, nearly wiped out.

As the second ex-husband would say in his colorful way, it “was slicker than owl shit.” For full effect, let the voice in your head say those words in a combined Pennsylvania accent that adds an “R” to words where it has no business, such as “Warshing,” and “Warshington” and add a bit of Tennessee twang that elongates the middle of words. It should come out something like, “Ahhh….. That’s sliquor than awe-l shiit.” And that is how treacherous the deck was this morning.

I'll stay here where it's dry and not
 slick, please and thank you.

The bag made it into the bin without neck or hip breakage, but it stopped there. With an ice moat covered with rain and the water moat between me and the curb, it was not worth the potential risk to push the bin over the ice and though the water. Not for one not even full bag of trash.

I have met ice like this before and it didn’t end well for me. When I was in high school, Mom and I were out shopping one winter night. It was dark with ice on the ground and rain falling from the sky. I was wearing my beloved white painter’s pants, popular when I was a know-it-all high school student and before I became a know-it-all college student. As we exited Marshall’s to walk to the car for a quick trip to Friendly’s on Water Street on the way home, Mom told me to be careful of the ice because the rain made it more slippery. I responded with the typical teenage eye roll, big sigh, and snotty “I know.” The words were barely out of my mouth when my feet flew out from under me and I landed hard on my butt in the dirty puddle on the ice. My pants were saturated and dirty and our night ended early. To this day, I am careful on water covered ice. Especially when it is slicker than owl shit.

The dogs scaled back to only half the usual 10,000 trips outside and spared me the attitude when I told them to be careful. The rest of the time they alternated napping and yapping. I managed just one more outdoor adventure after the trash drop. I carefully shuffle-walked and slid to the downspout at the front of the house to check the ice situation and corral Winston from the end of the driveway where he was enjoying happy rainy day playtime and stepping onto the snowbank. Then I shuffle-walked and slid up the driveway to the other previously frozen downspout towards the back of the house. After that it was happily indoors all day for me.