It’s 8:45 on a Friday night and you’re desperate for some ice cream. Your freezer currently holds smoothie ingredients, frozen on-sale meat and what could be the abominable snowman’s left toe, thoroughly encrusted in freezer burn in the back. You curse your past self for desiring to be anything beyond the hobgoblin you are. The grocery store around the corner has your favorite flavor of Jeni’s and is open until 10… with no further thoughts, you head out the door.
A block from the store, your slippered foot hits something slick that you’d rather not dwell on, and you pinwheel your arms backward to narrowly avoid falling.