(this has only as much to do with this post as it mentions "ice")
I now present to you a written reenactment of my Tuesday morning:
Imagine, if you will, a young woman leaving for work. She bundles up appropriately for the 30-some-odd degree weather that awaits her. She wears, however, only simple leather flats. Her reasoning is that she will be indoors all day with an overzealous heater so, hey, why not?
This young woman gathers her things, all the things she assumes she will need throughout the day and heads out the door. Her porch, though there was reasonable condensation overnight, is not too icy. A little frost, a slick patch here and there. "How lovely!" she thinks to herself! So she continues confidently along.
Upon stepping up onto the staircase leading down from her apartment however, disaster! That one step, though successful and leaving her upright, illuminates her mind to the terrifying realization that there is in fact 1/4" of ice on each step. Shellacked on there, completely burying even the rough strips of traction-inducing roofing material.
You see, there are exactly 17 steps leading down that staircase in question and each step is decidedly narrower than your average step. And steeper.
These are, for lack of a better term, suicide stairs.
And your friendly heroine here is not exactly known for her grace in movement. Falling down is one of her greatest talents.
All of this screams through her mind as she stands helplessly on a very slippery, very frozen step.
"HOW AM I GOING TO GET DOWN FROM HERE?" she wonders.
Luckily, she is quite adept at lowering her center of gravity so with a careful squat, she slinks off the stairs and hurries back to her apartment.
She is trapped.
She texts an Indianian (who is much more familiar with ice such as this) and he gives her two options:
"Hold onto the railing" (which will not work, she tells him, as the railing too is encased in ice)
"Slide down on your butt"
Our girl chooses the latter (after trying to think of any other possibility including testing a theory of boiling enough water to melt the ice all the way down - upon the first trial step with a mugful of water, she decides, nope, not a good idea, this will end badly).
So with a hurried change out of her work clothes, she throws on a pair of yoga pants and duck boots and does what she does best (and probably should have thought of in the first place but leave it to this Indianian to remind her of the "get down the slippery surface" technique - that is, a modified crab walk - she exhibited on their first date four and a half years ago which undoubtedly won his heart immediately and reminds him even now why they are still friends)...
Friends, prepare your imaginations for this:
The girl braces herself for the cold. She understands the repercussions of sitting on ice with very thin pants. She knows what she has to do.
And she does it. One step at a time. Scooting down, on her butt, like a baby learning to navigate a staircase.
Sit on step. Move legs as far as they safely reach. Brace self with hands. Move down steps.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Seventeen steps later, she finds herself not only with a numb backside, but on solid, ice-free ground.
Considering it a win for the day (nay, the week!) she trots off to her car, turns the heat up all the way and wishes for a brief moments to be back in her old car with the heated seats. Just this once.
Because seriously, her bottom has never been so effing cold in her entire life.