Ice.
I had to take some trash out this morning, like you do. More than one trip too. And I did something on the first trip that I’m pretty sure will convert any agnostics to the Holy Church of Max is Crazy.
I made that first trip out without boots, shoes, socks, feet bare. Now it’s warmed since the start of the week, but there was ice on the pavement still in a couple places. Why did I do this? Well, it occurred to me that at no point in my life can I remember ever walking barefoot across ice. And somehow, my mind just decided that it was an experience that I should probably go on and have kind of like when you find the dollar bottle of cherry-kiwi soda in the store for the first time.
So the first footsteps were cold. Yeah, no duh, right? But while we all know cold very well and I’m sure chilly toes are a problem we’ve all had, the actual experience of a surface cold enough to have ice contacting that particular surface of skin is one of those things that makes the brain go WOAH HEY WOAH WHAT THE HELL. The ice I crossed cracked and shattered and in spots had water under it which didn’t make things any more pleasant. As I paused to open the top of the dumpster I instinctively rocked back on my heels so the soles could be out of touch with the frozen pavement for a moment. And then when I went back to the door I jogged, of course. But the good thing is that the human bloodstream is a pretty fine type of liquid temperature control and I was back to normal by the time I topped the stairs.
I dunno, maybe I was just in a poetic state of mind and I wanted to be able to log the sensory input of ice crunching under my feet. We’re all familiar with the creaks and groans of powder snow underfoot when walking, right? But do you know what that ~feels~ like? I do now.
I made that first trip out without boots, shoes, socks, feet bare. Now it’s warmed since the start of the week, but there was ice on the pavement still in a couple places. Why did I do this? Well, it occurred to me that at no point in my life can I remember ever walking barefoot across ice. And somehow, my mind just decided that it was an experience that I should probably go on and have kind of like when you find the dollar bottle of cherry-kiwi soda in the store for the first time.
So the first footsteps were cold. Yeah, no duh, right? But while we all know cold very well and I’m sure chilly toes are a problem we’ve all had, the actual experience of a surface cold enough to have ice contacting that particular surface of skin is one of those things that makes the brain go WOAH HEY WOAH WHAT THE HELL. The ice I crossed cracked and shattered and in spots had water under it which didn’t make things any more pleasant. As I paused to open the top of the dumpster I instinctively rocked back on my heels so the soles could be out of touch with the frozen pavement for a moment. And then when I went back to the door I jogged, of course. But the good thing is that the human bloodstream is a pretty fine type of liquid temperature control and I was back to normal by the time I topped the stairs.
I dunno, maybe I was just in a poetic state of mind and I wanted to be able to log the sensory input of ice crunching under my feet. We’re all familiar with the creaks and groans of powder snow underfoot when walking, right? But do you know what that ~feels~ like? I do now.