I never stop to wonder why I left the farm. I left the farm for many reasons, all of which I remember vividly.
But if I had forgotten why I became an urban drone, dwelling in a ticky-tacky house, this evening would have reminded me.
The storm we’d been told to expect began as promised, and it ain’t over yet. It started last night. I was worried that I’d need to dig out before going to work, but it had only snowed a couple inches, and I drove out. Then I spent all day at work worrying that I wouldn’t be able to get back home.
I did get in, though, and then I set to work with my master plan to get my neighbor’s snowblower (which, as you know if you’ve been following the last few episodes, he keeps in my garage in return for clearing the shared driveway) going. As you doubtless recall, a tire on the blower was flat last weekend, when he tried to use it. He took it someplace and got some kind of wrench that allows you to squoosh the tire down so that the bead seals, so you can pump it up again. He refilled the tire, but it went flat again. Probably a puncture.
And then he left town on business.
But I figured I could do the same squooshing thing with a length of rope and a tourniquet. And I have an air compressor of my own.
Story in short—it was tougher than I thought. I gave up at last. I took up my shovel and went to work. It took two hours, but I got it done.
And the snow was already beginning to accumulate behind me.
But I hope I can get out to go to work tomorrow, and then I’ll have the evening to repeat the process. We’re supposed to get up to ten inches more before it finally relents sometime tomorrow.
I could have taken a picture while the light lasted, to show you how much deeper the snow is, but I wanted to get to work before I lost the light.
I was also going to share a picture of my completed shield, which I finished last night, but Photobucket is down.
So you’ll have to settle for this.
It’s winter. We all have to make sacrifices.
Or if you don’t, I want you to feel guilty.