We woke this morning to no power like many in Minnesota that had also been slopped on by this mucky, slushy late winter snow.
Showering in the dark and without the furnace running was less than luxurious and comical even as I misplaced my razor several times. Nothing like resurfacing the skin around your ankles first thing in the morning.
Chris called from outside, announcing the timbering of a very substantial oak tree right atop of our roof. I figured he was being dramatic, and he was. In his very special only child way, he announced a fallen tree and the end of the world as we know it all in one breath.
He grabbed his keys and barreled down the driveway to check if the plows had cleared our quiet cul de sac and because he is him and I am me, we all know they had not. The snow sat untouched, saturated and heavy from the rain and sleet. Underneath, a great big layer of slop and slush. A venerable layer dip of shitty winter precipitation.
In these situations, I generally chuckle as I flip on the four wheel drive and blast myself free. Chris prefers the Fast and the Furious, Minnesota Remake, and can be found Tokyo Drifting his way to work. I elect to not be a part of it partly because I'm a buzz kill and partly because I come bearing both the fruits of my loins, as well as common sense.
This morning bore no douchey street driving tactics. Just me and the neighbors pushing and shoveling and sanding and praying to Jesus for Chris and his car to clear the mailbox and somehow get out of the neighborhood.
A neighborhood that sits on juuust enough of a hill to totally and completely shoot the brains out of any possibility of getting to work on time. As we heave-hoed, the cracking and crashing of trees echoed from the back yard. Under my breath, I hoped for one to take out the 12' picture window, a window far too expensive for us to replace without the aid of a natural disaster and a little help from our pals at State Farm.
With no such luck and after two hours of Flinstone inspired car maneuvering, we are both at work knowing that we are headed home to a fallen forest on top of the backyard shed and fence. To a home whose roof is now a few shingles short of being whole.
See what happens when people want more more more? One extra day every few years and look at this mess.
Pack up the grocery getter and get me to the wine shop before anything else goes wrong!
Showering in the dark and without the furnace running was less than luxurious and comical even as I misplaced my razor several times. Nothing like resurfacing the skin around your ankles first thing in the morning.
Chris called from outside, announcing the timbering of a very substantial oak tree right atop of our roof. I figured he was being dramatic, and he was. In his very special only child way, he announced a fallen tree and the end of the world as we know it all in one breath.
He grabbed his keys and barreled down the driveway to check if the plows had cleared our quiet cul de sac and because he is him and I am me, we all know they had not. The snow sat untouched, saturated and heavy from the rain and sleet. Underneath, a great big layer of slop and slush. A venerable layer dip of shitty winter precipitation.
In these situations, I generally chuckle as I flip on the four wheel drive and blast myself free. Chris prefers the Fast and the Furious, Minnesota Remake, and can be found Tokyo Drifting his way to work. I elect to not be a part of it partly because I'm a buzz kill and partly because I come bearing both the fruits of my loins, as well as common sense.
This morning bore no douchey street driving tactics. Just me and the neighbors pushing and shoveling and sanding and praying to Jesus for Chris and his car to clear the mailbox and somehow get out of the neighborhood.
A neighborhood that sits on juuust enough of a hill to totally and completely shoot the brains out of any possibility of getting to work on time. As we heave-hoed, the cracking and crashing of trees echoed from the back yard. Under my breath, I hoped for one to take out the 12' picture window, a window far too expensive for us to replace without the aid of a natural disaster and a little help from our pals at State Farm.
With no such luck and after two hours of Flinstone inspired car maneuvering, we are both at work knowing that we are headed home to a fallen forest on top of the backyard shed and fence. To a home whose roof is now a few shingles short of being whole.
See what happens when people want more more more? One extra day every few years and look at this mess.
Pack up the grocery getter and get me to the wine shop before anything else goes wrong!
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