Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum.

- Graycie Harmon

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Black Ice

"Damn it!" she hissed as she opened her eyes and looked at the clock. 7:43. She was supposed to be awake 13 minutes ago. Throwing her duvet aside, she leant over, played briefly with her annoyed-looking cat, and rolled out of bed.

She threw clothes on as she raced to the bathroom to brush her hair and put on some light make-up. The make-up routine she had down to under five minutes. Two tones of eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. That was it.

Now to the kitchen to prepare the day's lunch and snacks. Her cat meowed loudly as it milled about her feet. It knew that cheese would soon be prepared as a snack, and it knew that if it meowed loud enough and looked frantic enough, it'd get a small corner of cheese.

It did, and purred happily as it wolfed down the cheesy treat.

The girl ignored all further pleas from her cat as she raced back to her room to pack her gym bag. There would be training tonight, and she'd have to take her gear with her to work as there wouldn't be any time to go home first.

Everything packed and ready, she glanced at the clock. 8:04. Good. Enough time to catch the early bus and get to work in plenty of time.

She switched on her iPod and stepped outside. A light misting of rain made everything damp, but the air was clear and the temperature mild. In a good mood, she descended the stairs and stepped out into the rain.

Suddenly she saw sky. She stared up at it in bemusement. Why was she staring up at the sky? Black ice. She had slipped on it, landing first on her knee, then her buttocks, then her back.

"F#$&ing! F#$&!"

She picked herself up and looked down and her grey work slacks. The knee was covered in mud and filth, and her backside was likely no better. Swearing in a string that would make a sailor blush, she raced back inside and changed into her black work pants from the day before. It'd have to do.

She looked down at her knee as she undressed. It was mildly bloody with two smallish scrapes on the knee. Having no time to clean it up, she simply slid on the black slacks and raced out the door.

Taking baby steps, she cleared the driveway without incident. The journey to the bus stop was not so smooth. Though she didn't fall down again, she slipped twice, swearing each time as her heart skipped a beat.

She slipped once more after existing the bus at her stop.

Thank-fully, she wasn't late for work. She limped into the office, boiled some water, added copious amounts of salt, grabbed a cloth and sat down to clean the muck and filth from her knee. The hot salty water stung, and she silently cursed the three miserable fates.

Her task finally complete, she turned to the computer and set about starting her day.

And that is why, ladies and gentlemen, the blog post is late. Black ice.

And today's Forgotten English:

Churching Mice:

Murmuring in an undertone; Shropshire.
- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905.


KuietKelticGirl said...

What a horrible morning! I hope your knee is better soon.

I chose to wear my sneakers today. Not my new heavy-duty cleated boots, and I didn't bother with even yanking my yax-trax over my shoes, all because my bum wrist made me decide not to fiddle with such things.

Luckily, while I lost count of slips, I didn't have quite your morning, though I wouldn't have been able to describe it half as well as you did. Awesome writing. :-)

By the way, I love how you were exi-s-ting the bus. ;-)

PS can you make the writer's block photo bigger? I want to read the sub-caption. kplzthx

S.M. Carrière said...

Apparently, she can will buses into existence....

Damn it! And I thought I had edited it too!

My knee is currently covered in plasters under which lays copious amounts of polysporan. In a nutshell, it feels much better today, thanks!

I couldn't make the picture bigger, but I did manage to link it to the larger version. Just click on the image and you should be able to see it clearly.