It rained in Stockholm two days ago. This caused a lot of the snow to melt, revealing unsettling greenery in all the expanse of fields around us. I’m not sure what I expected, did grass just die for half a year only to resurrect themselves in Spring? I had never thought about it before to be honest. Nikki and I were talking the other day about how being in a snowfall kind of country made you think about of things because logistically so many things had to be done differently. Another example is all the tiny black rubble literally scattered everywhere to prevent slipping in the snow and ice. Which brings me to the topic of this post.
When snow melts you are left with a few things. A lot of muddy sludge, like a slurpee gone wrong, ice, and water. All of the above combined with a lack of soft snow is a basic recipe for slipping and falling. This is why it takes profound talent like mine to fall, not in sludge, water and ice but on solid dry road with all the aforementioned bits of rubble used to prevent falling.
It was a fall in slow motion, with my left leg slipping causing my body to put all its weight on my right. This resulted in me being in a kneeling position like I had just decided to propose to Nikki with a handful of snow and rocks. I am mostly thankful that my Black Milk fleece tights didn’t rip although a lot of blood had hardened and caked onto two layers of tights by the time I got a chance to take them off. Delicious.
It’s a little deeper than what you can see in the photo, this was after I had cleaned off some of the blood. In typical writer fashion I have been writing about the fall before attending to the wound. I hadn’t actually done anything to my wound aside from take my pants off to observe the damage for the sake of an accurate description. This was all yesterday though. All in all I am excited to have survived breaking my fall-virginity in winter. I also didn’t have any antiseptic cream so I had to McGyver it with vodka. I am terribly proud.
Now Playing: Summertime Sadness – Lana Del Rey