Slush

Periodically we must be reminded of the ugliness and inevitability of slush. I was out briefly today to run errands and have a cup of coffee. The snow was quite beautiful.
By the time I went outside again much of what was on the ground had turned to slippery slush. My spirits sank. Slush is dirty and treacherous. Slush is Frank Underwood from House of Cards. It is the relative you dread showing up at family gatherings. Slush takes no prisoners; it salivates at the sight of sneaker wear, or, even better, dress shoes.
Ice gets a bad rap. In its own way ice is elegant. When you slip on ice it will leave you embarrassed, aching, but, all important, dry. Slush seeps into every pore in seconds. Scrambling to your feet will not help one bit. Falling in slush is humiliating. It makes one doubt the existence of a benevolent God.
And if you're waiting for a bus during slush time and a vehicle passes too close, the spray may just leave you murderous. More felonies are committed during slush accumulation. Look it up.