Everyone in this area of the state woke up to find a fine crack-glaze of ice on everything that had stopped moving for longer than ten seconds. What's more, it's misting on and off, with occasional snow that at least clings to the slick spots long enough to let you know where to throw the salt on your sidewalk.
This would be normal January weather for the Midwest, including the penguin walk everyone adopts on occasions like this and the intrepid soul who attempted to bicycle down one of the remaining brickwork streets we have (and got soundly dumped on his poorly padded rear), if you discounted the absolute lack of snow and the lack of traction in general.
For one, it's rather disconcerting to realize that, while crossing a dip in the sidewalk that serves as a driveway, your feet slip and slide down what might be a slope of five degrees to the point where, if not for some fast and fancy footwork, you will fall on your arse.
And it is damaging to your pride to realize that you can't get up a similar grade not five feet after you slid down its mate, even clinging to a drainpipe with your feet scrabbling and skidding on the ice until you look like a Wile E. Coyote cartoon come to life.
There were no falls on my part, and only one for the entire family. Nobody's hurt beyond some interesting bruises, but our egos didn't do so well.
Edit: Growl. I hate it when the spacing doesn't come out the way I've typed it.