This Ain't My Tempurpedic, but It'll Do, I S'pose...

Saturday night we were out and about, and decided to go ahead and eat dinner at a restaurant somewhere in Plainfield - where we'd done a majority of our errand-running just before dinnertime. Laura and I debated whether to eat at a trusted, good ol' stand-by like Culver's or Chili's, or branching out and trying something sort of new.

We opted for the latter, and settled on Logan's Roadhouse. We'd considered going there before, and many of my friends had told me it was a good place to eat, so we went with it.

If you've ever been to a Texas Roadhouse, you've been to a Logan's. Same idea: steakhouse, buckets of peanuts, country music, but not enough Patrick Swayze.

Anyway, it's been bitter cold and snowy all day long. The parking lot at Logan's was pretty well covered in about an inch of snow in most parts. We pull into a spot at the end of a bank of parking spots, and proceed to extricate ourselves, and the boys, into the frigid, blowing air. Laura's out first, and at Jack's door in seconds. I shut off the car, open my door, then plant my foot on the ground below and start to hoist myself out.

Only, my foot doesn't properly plant on the pavement.

I never feel a bit of traction, yet continued to jettison myself from the car door. Well, it doesn't take a physics whiz to figure out that inertia, minus friction or resistance, plus fatassery (aka significant mass) is an equation wrought with unhappy results. I just kind of slid under the door, smacked my hand/wrist and shoulder on the ice-covered blacktop, and just crumpled the rest of the way out of the car. I let out a loud groan, accompanied by a profane word or two (I'm sure, though I don't clearly recall, now), and just lay there in shock, embarrassment, and a bit of pain.

I hear Laura yell, "Are you OK? What happened?!?!?!" Then, she begins to run over to my side of the car, around the back-end of the car.

"Yeah, ooowwwww....I'm fine," is my response.

Laura gets to my side, and is staring at me writhing on the ground, then asks, "Did you slip?"

I layed there for what felt like 30-45 seconds, asking myself if I'd actually heard her ask me if I'd slipped. Finally, I look up at her and say, "Well, no, actually, I figured this was just about as good a place as any to take a goddamned nap."

Ha ha ha...seriously? We both had a good laugh at that one.

(K)