Ok, I'm really, really trying to be positive here, so if I sound like a whiner, it's all in your imagination because I really LOVE to shovel slush. Love it, love it, love it.
A few things I love about it...
I love the way it tweaks your back as you bend over to lift the shovel.
I love how the concrete-like material conveniently sticks to the shovel when you try to throw the slush over the 10 foot wall of snow along your driveway.
I love how the only way to get it back off the shovel is to slam the shovel against the driveway, so it all just goes back where it was in the first place.
I love how the 9-year-old snowblower moans and threatens to die on the spot as it chunks up the slush and spits it right back down to it's original resting place.
I love how it can be only 26 degrees and pouring down rain.
I love how I can dress for snow with multiple layers, and come in to find that every single layer is drenched. We're talking MULTIPLE layers. ALL drenched. I'll spare you the details on that one.
I especially love how the town snowplow driver, who so diligently plows our road, aims for the end of our driveway when looking for a place to leave all the slush gathered up from the rest of the town.
I love how the electric company is going to send me a warning notice because the path to our meter has not been cleared. Understand that I left that portion until last, when the slush had at last turned to concrete and my back was screaming for mercy. By this time, the snowblower was leaking something weird and threatening to self-destruct on the spot.
Maybe this means we'll have free electricity until the snow melts?
Somehow I doubt that.
Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes