...and I am losing.
The street I live on is a slight hill, and my neighbor's drainpipe flows down the sidewalk in front of my house. With all the rain on Sunday in addition to this drainpipe business, the sidewalk in front of my house became a skating rink of sheer, shiny ice.
As i was scattering salt around on Monday morning before I left for work, I lost my footing and slid down the sidewalk on my back. Wheee! Then as I was getting up, I fell on my stomach and ended up sliding even further down the sidewalk. I finally gave up and crawled the sidewalk length to finish salting the death-trap. I ran out of salt with only half my sidewalk salted. I didn't want anyone else to bite it in front of my house, so I ran inside, made a few signs that said "CAUTION! BLACK ICE ON SIDEWALK!" and taped them to the bottom of my front step railing. I figured, I'll just run to the store, pick up a bag of salt, drive back, throw it on the sidewalk and be on my way to work.
Of course, the supermarket was out of salt, so I had to get cat litter. Eh, better than nothing.
I drive back to my house, and hop out of my car to spread some litter on the rest of the icy sidewalk.
I FALL AGAIN!
This time I cracked my head on something, maybe my bottom stair, I don't know. Ouch! I think I got knocked out for a few seconds, but I'm not sure. Next thing I know, I'm lying on the sidewalk on my back. I think I'm dead. Seriously. The back of my head felt a bit wet. I thought, "This is it. I've cracked my head open and I'm dead. My cat is going to starve to death, and I'm dead."
For some reason, I think that if I can scream something out loud, I'll be able to tell if I'm dead or not. So I scream "Cocksucker!!"
Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, not so much. I should have probably screamed something tamer, like "Birthday Cake!" or something. I don't know, odd ideas pop into your head when you think you're dead.
It turns out that my neighbor heard me, which in my head meant that I wasn't dead. Because he heard me and he's not dead.
He asks if I'm ok, as I'm lying in what I think is a pool of my own blood. I whimper "yeah" and slowly get up, fully expecting to see a big crimson puddle on the ice.
No blood in sight.
It turns out that the warmth from my body was melting the ice beneath me, and I mistook the melting ice for the wetness of blood. How gross.
I have fallen on ice more times in the last three days than I have in, I don't know, SEVEN YEARS.