THE ICE, THE GARBAGE, AND THE PLAN

(The following was originally written in March)
Let me begin with a question. What's wrong with me? Now let me explain why I make this self inquiry. My wife, Aubrey, and I were cleaning our apartment this afternoon, and I reached the point of the process where I was preparing to take out the trash/recyclables (As per mine and my wife's agreement that I take out the trash and she replenishes the receptacles with new trash sacks. 'Cause that's team work).
We recently had something of a frost, or a dusting of snow. I wouldn't say that it snowed. We were kissed. We were given a little snow kiss. Anyway, as a result of that moisture and the freezing to sub-freezing temperatures, ice has formed on the concrete behind the apartments in the trash/recyclables area. No problem. I took short, steady steps; no hurry. I placed the trash in the provided cans and placed my bag of mixed recyclables near the provided cans without separating the two families of recyclable waste (as per New York City's agreement with it's citizens as an attempt to keep the streets cleaner. 'Cause that's team work) because I want to sort of make an effort, but not really.
As I lay the bag down I hear the door to the trash/recyclables area open behind me. I turn to find a very feeble, little, silver-haired woman who looks to be roughly 153 years young with a grocery sack full of trash. She sees me. She sees the ice. Then she says:"Oh, it's so slippery. This is dangerous. All this ice." Being the kind, thoughtful person I am that wants to make an effort but not really, I immediately decide to offer my assistance to the lady (and being fair to myself I truly did have the very best in mind).
Now, here's where the aforementioned self-inquiry comes into play. Rather than doing what you have probably already thought of and taking the sack of trash off her hands, I think to myself: "She's old. She's weak. She said herself that it was dangerous and slippery. Why don't I help her by tyring to hold her up by her brittle gumby arm as she takes her little bag of snotty rags to the garbage." WHAT? What's wrong with me. It's like I want to do the right thing but I want to do it the hardest way possible for all parties involved. This was seriously the first thing that leaped into my head to do. Brilliant. So that way if she slips on the ice she'll still probably fall but instead of the cracked rib she would've gotten she'll only sustain a hairline fracture to her miniature hip and a broken arm because I crushed it as it was violently ripped from my grip on the way down.
Luckily she was smart enough for the both of us and as I reached my stupid arm out to "assist" her with my stupid plan, she reached her arm out to hand me her sack of trash. "That's a really good idea" I thought to myself. "I mean I've got the ice walking thing down. I've even had recent practice. I should definitely just take her five ounces of trash to the can sitting two and half feet away." I don't think she could tell that I was that big of a moron. She still thanked me. In the end, the old girl didn't fall and the trash did get deposited in the proper location via myself (as per our accidental trash relay. 'Cause that's team work).