Ice Really Is Slick

There's thankfully no pictures for today's blog.  John and I got back from buying my Christmas present at Walmart.  I got a new TV for my sewing room to replace the really old one that's bigger than the legal-size file cabinet that it's sitting on, behind my sewing machine, quilting machine, and cutting table.  We'd unloaded it and other misc things.  John went in the house and I was loading up three crates (black wire cages) to get ready for taking the cats up to Petsmart tomorrow for adoptions.  I always load the crates on Friday to make loading cats easier on Saturday morning.  The St. Louis area got a small ice storm Tuesday.  I threw down what ice-melt we had from last year, but it obviously wasn't enough.  I was putting the first crate, a small one, in the front seat and my feet went out from under me and I went down on my tailbone and smacked the back of my head on the concrete.  I laid there for about 15 seconds till I could breathe again, fished my cell phone out of my pocket and called John in the house.  The conversation went like this:

"I'm laying on the driveway.  Come and help me up."
"Be right there."

So, I'm laying on my back, on the driveway, with a cat crate on top of me, in a subdivision, on the main street, at 2:45 on a Friday afternoon.  Not a car drove by.  Not one neighbor came out to see if I was dead. Where was John! He'd only been in the house for 20 seconds and the door to the laundry room is 25' away! I laid there, and laid there, and laid there, and finally, he came out. 

"Where the hell have you been!!!"  
"I had to put my pants and shoes on!"
"Why didn't you have any pants on!"  (He had them on when we got back from Walmart!)
"I was changing my clothes."
"Why the hell were you changing your clothes?!"

By this time he'd come around the back of the car and started laughing. I think to men, yelling and screaming is a sign we're okay.  I couldn't get the crate off me, and I couldn't get my feet under me because of the ice.  After he lifted the crate off, he had to spin me around so my feet and legs were over the snowy grass so I could roll over, get on my knees, and be helped up.  That's when I saw the spider-web cracks in the ice where my head bounced a couple times.  I inched my way into the house, took four Advil and a half cup of chocolates I'd just bought.  Went one step at a time down to the family room, but couldn't sit back in my recliner till the meds started to work.  John brought my Kindle down, and I had my laptop on the end table.  I was set, almost.  John thought I was kidding about bringing me a martini - for medicinal purposes only.  I got water.  I'm still here, 2.5 hours later, but my butt doesn't hurt if I don't move.  I definitely have a flatter place on the back of my head, but no headache or anything.  I'm probably not going to adoptions tomorrow morning.  I'll be happy if I can get out of bed and make it to the bathroom.