Crabby Woman Probably Gets What She Deserves

I was in bed last night when Shad came home. He walked into the room and said, "Baby, the sidewalk to the garage is really slippery. Be careful tomorrow. You will fall down."

Unfortunately for Shad and for unknown reasons, I was really grumpy yesterday and had been taking it out on him all afternoon. He endured it sweetly and finally dismissed me from the project we were working on and sent me to the gym. Exacerbating this inexplicable baseline crabbiness, you do not need to know me well to know that I resent few things more than being told what I am going to do. If I slip and fall on my ass in the morning, I want it to be because I decided all on my own that I was going to slip and fall on my ass in the morning. So being the jerk that I am, I roll my eyes in response to his sweet warning. "I know it's slippery. I saw the ice on it today." "I know, but I'm telling you it is really really slippery right now. You WILL fall." Now I'm getting downright cranky. Not only is he telling me what I will do, but he seems to be suggesting that I'm a klutz! Which is TOTALLY UNSUBSTANTIATED! So I growl back, "I'm always careful on the ice." (It's true: when I was eight I slipped on the ice and cracked my chin in half.) "Be extra careful. Maybe you should walk in the snow next to the icy path." Heavy, sarcastic sigh (Why, exactly, am I committed to being so ridiculously crabby today? It's actually starting to become exhausting.): "Look, I've walked the path a million times, I'll be careful, I'll be fine." At this point I am kissed on the forehead, gently reminded that I twisted my ankle after falling on this very path about four weeks ago, and tucked in for the night.

This morning, I opened the back door and faced the treacherous path. The ice glimmered tauntingly in the morning light. I took a breath and began the journey. I will not fall. Tiny step. I will not fall. Tiny step. I will not fall. Tiny step. I will not...

I fell. Spectacularly. My left ankle twisted under me, my whole body flew up in the air, and I landed on my ass with limbs splayed in every direction. It would have been like a cartoon if I had been carrying a huge sheath of papers. It's hard to tell what hurts more: my (re-)twisted ankle, my bruised bum, or my terrifically damaged ego.