Apparently it's not very nice to laugh until tears after your boyfriend narrowly escapes a Mack truck death but I can't seem to help myself. They call it hysteria for a reason. And there didn't happen to be a Mack truck coming down the road, or even a Hyundai, so really it wasn't so bad. Should I tell the whole story, I guess I sort of have to.
Going back David Copperfield style, we have this driveway. It goes up a mountain. It's not terribly long, not miles long, maybe a quarter mile. There's a wicked steep part, then a turn, then an ehh not that steep part. Until this weekend it's been packed snow, perfectly manageable packed snow. Then it rained. Apparently "rain" + "packed snow" = "oh my god that's a lot of ice". We got home from home on wednesday and Matt was very sick and since we made it up the driveway even with the "oh my god that's a lot of ice" we didn't go fetch sand. Then yesterday it snowed again. "Snow" + "oh my god that's a lot of ice" = "you will never make it to your house".
It was slippery beyond slippery, it was slick to the power of six gazillion. The car made it to the top of the big hill. This is traditionally where Matt takes over and I hot foot it to the house so he doesn't run me over going a million miles up the hill. Only last night I fell on my ass and couldn't get back up. I thought I was going to get run over but I got lucky and Matt got the car stuck in a snowbank (in my opinion better than sliding down the driveway into traffic but he was pretty mad). I was all happy not to be run over but I still couldn't get vertical. It was like when you wash your hamster cage and you put the hamster in the sink and they try and try and try and can't climb up the porcelain. I proceeded to crawl on hands and knees to the garage with very little success. Matt, with more four letter dialogue than I've ever heard before, proceeded to fall on his ass in the perfect middle of the driveway so that when he started to get up...he slid down the entire driveway on his knees.
He landed in the road and if there had been a car there he'd be dead. He still got up the driveway and to the garage faster than I did with my hamster crawl, a testament to his rage if anything. We had to pull the car out with the plow truck and made it safely, though sideways, down the hill this morning. He's decided that he needs to carry a claw hammer in his pocket and that also the car needs chains. I'm going to have the most hardcore luxury sedan on earth with snow tires, chains, and a hundred pounds of sand in the trunk. That's the story of Matt and the Hello Kitty band-aid.