Humpty Dumpty Slipped On The Ice

It really is unfortunate that we don't have hidden cameras around our house and yard. Then we could have captured the hilarious moment of yesterday, and I would have a picture to accompany this post.

Since my parents bought the house next door (oh yeah, news flash, my parents bought the house next door to us!), we now have a driveway on both sides of our house that we can use. My parents driveway is actually much more convenient for unloading groceries. My own driveway means I have to walk down a few steps, into the basement, then up a flight of stairs into my kitchen. My parents driveway ends right next to a gate into our patio area, and then it's a few short steps to the door of my kitchen. So last night, it made sense to try the new route to unload a car full of groceries.

After a couple of slow attempts to make it up the icy non-plowed driveway, I succeeded. I should have listened to reason and decided that maybe it was too slick. But noooo.

So I carefully stepped out of the car in my leather boots; the cute trendy kind with zero traction, not the practical kind with major tread that Santa might be bringing me for Christmas. The closest thing to me was the crate of five dozen eggs. "I'll be safe and just take these instead of balancing and juggling several things." After all, I was holding them safely against my body with both hands. What could possibly go wrong?

I carefully stepped towards the gate. While reaching for it, I lost all traction of the slight incline, and in one graceful plop, dropped the eggs and did a belly flop right onto them. I think every one of them might have been lost, had it not been for the skin of my hand sacrificed while grabbing at the the chain links of the gate.

I laid on the eggs and snow for a moment. Wind knocked out of me, I wasn't sure if I'd broken any bones. I concluded that I must be okay, and picked myself up, expecting to have egg guts everywhere. Only snow. It looked like I'd tried to make snow angels on my belly on top of a crate of eggs. I was annoyed.

I carefully made my way inside, and beckoned my husband to fetch the rest of the groceries, but suggested he shovel the five yards of sidewalk first. I brushed off as much snow as I could, and examined the eggs. Only four fatalities. Four. Out of sixty. I really have to hand it to the egg packaging industry. Those cardboard crates are indestructible.