Ice Storm

I just slid most of the way down our road on my back. It was actually kind of fun.

A more complete version of the story would begin with sliding most of the way down the road in the Jeep while ferrying Jen to her car (which we’d wisely decided to leave at the bottom of the hill earlier), then rather less wisely trying to drive the Jeep back up to the house, getting just past the really steep part before sliding all the way down again backwards (which somehow feels much faster than sliding down facing forwards), so parking at the bottom of the hill, walking most of the way back up by stomping hard enough to break through the crust of ice on the snowbank, only realizing too late that I chose the wrong snowbank, so then crossing to the house side of the road by carefully stepping to a dark patch of sand that had eroded through the ice, which promptly turned out to be less a dark patch of sand and more a dark patch of even more ice, so not so much “crossing” the road as “sliding all the way back down to the bottom of it, on my back.”

A verbatim summary of my thought process on the way down:

“wheeeee!”






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