So, I was blessed with about 8″ of the beautiful white stuff. It’s all pretty and fun until it comes time to remove it. The weather report had predicted about 6″ of the fluffy stuff, but I believe we got a few more inches. Face it, what other job that a weather forecaster, can you get paid a lot of money to do and be wrong about 50% of the time? Not many, if any.
I listened to the weather report for today, brisk, with a high wind advisory up to 45 MPH, in the low 30’s. I put on my long johns, a turtle neck, a neck gator, and my brand-spanking new Carhart one-piece insulated outfit. For footwear, I select my black winter riding boots. To complete the ensemble, I choose the sweet, light blue and white gloves that my friend got for me for Christmas. They are a stretchy knit that look as if they will only fit the hand of only a six year old, but stretch out to fit an adult. I shove on my Olympics blue and red fleece hat and out the door I go.
I leave my snow shovel at the door for the convenience of not having to trudge through snow to get it. Luckily the snow is fluffy and I begin on the door stoop, shoveling off the snow. My walkway is a brick stone design in put in several years back and it has moss in-between the stones. Nice in the summer, but moss with traces of snow and 30 degree temps mean super slippery! I shovel to the end, into the drive, leading to the garage. After opening the door, I peer inside to begin the tedious process of moving things to pull it out the snow blower that is parked the farthest corner of the garage. A place my nephew helped move it too last summer.
My garage – it contains: a kayak, two big ladders, a dirt bicycle, a street (thin tire) bicycle, a lawnmower, several beach chairs in bags, a wood front door and a screen door; replacement screens for said doors; a cat tent (more later), the massive pile of boxes remnants from the summer tag sale, 4 regular tires for the car, several rakes, several shovels, empty bottle bags, boxes with junk, and then more boxes with junk. My car has never seen the inside of this abode in the 12+ years I have lived here.
I look inside again and spin around, picking up the shovel, knowing it will probably never happen that I will get at that snow blower. I begin to shovel. My style is totally unconventional and could trouble the detail-oriented person greatly. I make diagonal patterns in the driveway, pushing the snow up onto the lawn on either side of the drive. Cris-crossing the drive and make giant X’s in the snow. Why, you ask? First off, it’s easy; secondly it is fun. I first started doing this when I was shoveling and it was sunny out. Opening up the mini paths allowed for the snow to hit the black tar driveway and it would begin to help melt the snow. Depending on how motivated I was, I would sometimes luck out with the sun doing a portion of the removal for me. There is always a method to my madness, but don’t tell my ex-husbands.
I reconsider the snow blower given the layer of snow waiting for me at the end. I return to the garage and begin to spend the next three hours re-arranging and shifting the ‘stuff’ inside the garage to get at the snow blower. I take the opportunity to load up the car with some of the tag sale boxes with a vow to bring them to Goodwill or the like on Monday. I finally get to the snow blower and to what do my wondering eyes doth appear, but my snow blower with one very flat tire! I fight with it to move it to the front of the garage down the path I have cleared. I spin, grab the shovel and head back out. The good – I got rid of some of the junk.
I am inside now, all warm and snugly and the drive is 99.9% done. I left the heavy lifting of the end of the drive until tomorrow. What do I care? I have no where to go, no one to see and I know, no one is going to steal it, it will still be there tomorrow.
(Grammar disclaimer – I shoot for great, but sometimes land on okay. In other words, if the punctuation isn’t just so, get over it.)