Confession is Good For The Soul

I have a confession to make: I can’t walk in snow. Lucky me, I just happened to pick the snowiest town to live in, all thanks to my husband. Also, where I lived before there was no snow. I can’t tell you how many times I envision me falling flat on my butt in snow and people laughing at me. This vision alone has kept me indoors at this time of year to the point where I was almost tempted to call a cab to get to the corner store. An ordinary taking out of the thrash almost turned tragic one day for me. With sneakers on my feet, I walked out of the house en route to the thrash can. I was slipping and sliding all over the place, no doubt my shoes did not have the necessary traction to withstand the ice. I skated uncontrollably and cleverly avoided falling on my butt, which is the direction I felt my body was heading. Then I heard one of my neighbors saying “wrong shoe, wrong shoe”. As if I didn’t already know that.

For The Love of God, No Coffee

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