Today, I am up to my ears in snow. Literally. And I mean up to my ears when standing, not the 2 times when I slipped on ice and fell to the ground.
Nothing sadder than a grown man flopping around on the driveway like a newly caught fish.
Remember when you were younger and you could fall and not feel it for the next 6 weeks? I don’t. Mainly because my memory is shot (I can remember stories from my misspent youth, but yet I can’t find my keys or remember if I ate lunch).
Speaking of falling (man, my hip hurts). It used to be so easy to pop right back up after a fall.
Then I got to the age, if I fell I looked around immediately to see if anyone saw me because I was embarrassed. Now, I fall and pray someone sees me. I am hoping they will run over and help, call an ambulance, or drag me off to the side of the road so I can die in peace.
But back to my day/nightmare/punishment.
I spent the better part of 3 hours digging out of what can best be called an avalanche. When I first went outside, much to my surprise and disappointment I was faced with a 9 foot snowdrift (maybe it was 8 inches, you can’t expect me to remember all of the details- my memory is bound to get worse after the falls).
After a lot of blood, sweat and tears (and cursing) we can actually now see the road in front of our house. I am pretty sure I can now identify the general area in which the mailbox lives.
During these 180 minutes (1260 in dog minutes) of what can best be described as the best opportunity for my first heart attack, I had plenty of time to think. Moving snow for 3 hours (that is 21 hours for dogs) gives a guy an opportunity to really put things in perspective.
Some examples of my deeper thoughts include; why do I always have to use the restroom 12 seconds after I get all of my snow gear on; holy crap this is a lot of snow; I hate the city guy who is clearing snow off the street and piling it up in front of my driveway; I am an idiot for not living south of the Mason-Dixon line; and if I had a son his lazy behind would be shoveling snow as I watched from inside the house.
But these were all just passing thoughts. All except the needing to use the bathroom. That thought came to be about every 4 seconds. I wish I lived in the woods (if you don’t get this you’re either not a man or you have some class).
The most intelligent thought that passed under my stocking cap was about the snow blower being the number one invention in the last fifty years.
I briefly considered ice makers in refrigerators, video players in the backseats of cars for the little ones (genius!), microwaves, drive-thru fast food windows and Kleenexes with lotion in them.
Admittedly all great inventions, but sadly I would give up all of them before relinquishing my snow blower.
Now if someone could just invent a way to use the restroom without taking my snowsuit off, I could die (most likely from a fall on the ice) a happy man.