Slip 'n slide (or, All the king's men)

My friend Teresa says guided imagery doesn't work for her as a relaxation technique. Teresa, have Regis read this to you while you lie down and shut your eyes. It may not help you relax, but it could provide some comic relief!

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About 15 minutes ago, I went out to the mailbox to get the mail (now there's a redundant statement). It's winter, so of course I chose to go out in cropped sweatpants, a tee-shirt, no socks, and rubbery slip-on open-toed garden scuffs. I'm a Minnesotan.

We had freezing rain and snow here yesterday, so I had a layer of ice to contend with on the driveway and in the street. All went well on the driveway, but not as well on the street. As I turned around to head back to the house after closing the mailbox, I did one of those infamous slow motion falls, landing on my wrist and my ass. Pieces of mail flew in all directions. 

Oh, did I mention that the guy who was driving by in his pick-up truck took it all in with a slo-mo "Oh, no!" look of shock on his face? The truck screeched to a halt (not exactly, but it seemed that way at the time) and the kindly man mouthed, “Are you all right?” Even if I’d broken my wrist and an ankle and had a skull fracture, I was too embarrassed to do anything but wave him on and mouth back, “I’m fine.”  

I sat there, waiting for him to move along so I could pull myself together and get back up on my feet. He drove a few yards, then decided to stop. He got out of his truck and offered to help me get to the house. I declined, noticing he was having trouble on the icy street, too, because he had on what looked like those old-fashioned rubber slip-on things my dad used to wear over his good shoes in the winter. I figured any guy wearing 1950's gripless footwear would be more of a hazard than a help. After he got back in his truck and drove off, I slid over to the mailbox, grabbed on, and stood up. I’m writing this on my computer, so it’s obvious that I made it back into the house and didn’t break or fracture anything. I’m guessing there will be bruises. 

If only the dang boots I ordered a few weeks ago would get here,  I’ll be better equipped for the next dangerous trip to the mailbox. Or maybe I should ask the city to put up a sign.