Cute, but lethal: The Doormat of Death

December has been... interesting.

It started with battery troubles in my car—clearly a sign that I don't drive it nearly enough. The dead battery made me late for one event, caused me to miss another entirely, and sent me down a rabbit hole of researching both jump starters and battery chargers — these are BRILLIANT! — NOCO Boost GB40: 1000A UltraSafe Jump Starter and the NOCO GENIUS5: 5A 6V/12V Smart Battery Charger. I finally felt a sense of accomplishment once I had that sorted out.

No sooner had I patted myself on the back than I took the first of two rather spectacular falls.

Of course, I have no one to blame but myself for these mishaps. I'd been utterly charmed by a whimsical holiday doormat from World Market—festive, cute, and seemingly harmless. My front porch is small, so I usually keep decorations minimal: just a wreath on the door and I'm done. But this year I'd gone all out with little pre-lit Christmas trees in urns flanking the door, a pair of lanterns, and a darling rustic Santa, so naturally the porch needed a coordinating rug to tie it all together. I placed it proudly before my December 7 ladies' luncheon and never gave it another thought. It simply didn't occur to me that a "cute" doormat on a smooth porch surface might need a non-slip pad or rug gripper underneath to keep it from turning into a launching pad.

On the second Saturday of the month, I went out to retrieve the mail and a stack of packages. (Deliveries have become a daily event here, thanks to Andrew forwarding his mail while nothing has started on repairing their fire damaged house—so I'm managing my holiday gifts, his holiday gifts, and a steady stream of work-related parcels. But I digress.) I'd just collected the mail and was stepping up onto the porch when I slipped. I ended up sprawled halfway inside the house and halfway out, the doormat launched into the yard, my shoes following suit, and the storm door closing on me for good measure.

Adrenaline and a strong desire not to become a neighborhood spectacle (don't get me started) got me back inside quickly, so I didn't fully register the damage at first. It wasn't until Sunday morning, when I tried to get out of bed, that the extent hit me: softball-sized bruises blooming across my body, deep lateral ones along my back, and a general ache in every joint and muscle.

Monday brought a small bright spot—a UPS box I knew contained my nephew's homemade Christmas cookies, a cherished tradition. Eager for my treat, I stepped outside, planted my foot on the doormat... and it shot out from under me like a rocket. This time I fell backward, ending up half on the porch, half dangling over the step, and sprawled across the sidewalk. The UPS driver witnessed the whole thing but simply drove off. Charming.

I crawled back into the house clutching the box. I tore into it like a jackal while still lying on the entryway floor, and promptly ate three cookies for breakfast. (Whatever magic my nephew works into those cookies is powerful—I transferred the rest to a freezer bag because I love them frozen, and by lunchtime I'd polished off five more.)

 The rest of the week I looked—and felt—like I'd gone a few rounds in a prizefight. I began wondering if something was off with my balance until I reviewed the Ring doorbell footage of both incidents. The culprit? The festive holiday doormat I'd bought on a whim. The moment weight hit it, it skittered right off the porch. When Andrew stopped by, I handed it over with instructions to dispose of it properly. Farewell, cute but treacherous rug.

 

There you have it—December's adventures in automotive woes and unintended acrobatics.

 Happy New Year! Stay upright, my friends, stay upright!

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