Friday, February 8, 2013
If ya gotta go, let it snow
We are on the periphery of that massive East Coast snowstorm the talking heads have been hyping. It did cause problems on the way home from school, with my normal 20-minute drive turned into an hour-and-a-half stop and go.
And when I got home, there was about a foot of snow in the driveway waiting to be shoveled.
The thing is, I like to shovel. I enjoy the exertion. I savor the satisfaction of seeing driveway reappear from beneath the snow. I relish the cool air. I use the time to think, to hum, to pray.
The Good Looking One, still recovering from surgery and hence grounded at home, went off on one of her regular frets - saying we should hire a plowing service, that at 57 I'm too old to shovel, that men my age and younger die of heart attacks.
She is one of those people who if she has something to say, she has to say it six times, or more. I'm one of those people who believes you should say what you have to say once, then move on.
I know: She's motivated by love. But she is also a chronic worrier. My bride is one who if there is a cloud on the horizon is certain a storm is coming and that it will bring down on the house the tree in the front yard, and the dog will then get loose and lost, and that insurance might not cover everything, etc. All of which she has to voice.
She finally stopped talking about plows and heart attacks when I suggested that maybe I should just go for a drive in the storm to enjoy some silence.
Then I went out and shoveled the driveway. Not all of it. I'm not crazy. I cleared just enough to get the cars out easily. About 45 minutes of slow shoveling.
There's also something my lady doesn't realize.
Shoveling snow is one of the things I wouldn't mind dying while doing.
As I said, I enjoy shoveling, and keeling over with a shovel in my hand would be fine with me. Other things I wouldn't mind being caught doing by the Grim Reaper: Walking in the woods. Sitting reading a good book. Watching an episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
After walking the dog around 9, I did some more shoveling. Another few inches of snow had fallen, covering the area I'd shoveled earlier. I cleared the new snow, and enlarged the shoveled area. I'll have the entire driveway done before noon tomorrow.
I'm stubborn, but not stupid. When I can't do it any more, when I feel the strain is too much, then I'll hire a plowing service.
But for now, give me a shovel. And if the Boss wants to call me home while I'm doing something I enjoy, I have no objections.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Pax et bonum