Not everyone enjoys snow as much as Ferris does. I know I don't. Scott and I dragged ourselves out of bed this morning, layered on the winter clothing and headed outside to shovel. And shovel. And shovel. And shovel. We do not have a large property, but the snow lay in heavy, densely packed drifts and it took us hours to clear the sidewalk and driveway. Our only break was to stop and help a man push his pick-up truck, which had died a sad, sputtering death in front of our house. When Scott and I approached him, the man looked at Scott (6'1", in shape), then looked at me (5'4", round in shape) and nodded in my direction. He said, "You can drive." "That's what you think," I replied.
It's hard to crash a vehicle that is stuck in a snowdrift, and I'm pleased to say that we moved it a full three feet without hitting a thing. I may have cranked the wheel a bit too far, however, as I turned the truck just enough to block the path of an oncoming snowplow. The plow turned around and retreated, leaving our section of road unplowed. You're welcome, neighbours!
I hopped out of the cab and helped push, since we were obviously better off with no driver at all than with me at the wheel. We only managed to move the truck about two more feet before giving up. Scott and I resumed shovelling while the truck's owner climbed back in the cab to await a tow truck.
Between the truck-pushing and the snow-shovelling, my back is aching. I'd love to take a long, relaxing bath, but that would necessitate cleaning the bathtub first, which would mean leaning over and/or crouching. No can do. Note to self: next time, clean bathtub, then shovel.
It's hard to crash a vehicle that is stuck in a snowdrift, and I'm pleased to say that we moved it a full three feet without hitting a thing. I may have cranked the wheel a bit too far, however, as I turned the truck just enough to block the path of an oncoming snowplow. The plow turned around and retreated, leaving our section of road unplowed. You're welcome, neighbours!
I hopped out of the cab and helped push, since we were obviously better off with no driver at all than with me at the wheel. We only managed to move the truck about two more feet before giving up. Scott and I resumed shovelling while the truck's owner climbed back in the cab to await a tow truck.
Between the truck-pushing and the snow-shovelling, my back is aching. I'd love to take a long, relaxing bath, but that would necessitate cleaning the bathtub first, which would mean leaning over and/or crouching. No can do. Note to self: next time, clean bathtub, then shovel.
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3 comments:
I am with you about the snow. It was so much more fun when I was little.
You make me laugh. "No can do."
Gosh, what a wimpy snowplow--just turns tail and runs away. You should have chased him down the block.
"No can do"--sounds like a martial art.
"It's only fair to warn you, sir, that I am a master of No Can Do..."
Sounds awful. We got heavy wet stuff here, which promptly turned brown, but man did it get cold afterwards. There's still ice everywhere, which I fear will not go away until April 2008. Happy Winter. Hope you're recovered and clean by now.
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