Last week I awoke to the sound of dripping. Ah, the spring Equinox. No matter that the calender read January, it was a warm day above freezing, and the snow was melting. I had a workshop to attend and wanted to look professional. My black skirt was perfect with my white blouse and grey cardigan. Those clunky boots would look terrible, why not wear my professional shoes.
The day was so warm I did not even need a coat. I walked confidently out the front door. As I stepped down the first step my feet flew out from under me. I landed on my bottom and then bouced to the second step. It was several minutes before I could get up. Afraid to move or even stand in my slippery shoes I slid them off my feet. I very carefully walked in the snow skirting the black ice that had been my downfall. I returned to the house my shoulder throbbing. I was not going to miss the workshop, I had payed good money to attend, so I pulled on my boots and ignored my pain. I walked into the meeting a little late draggind my wounded wing.
