Just yesterday morning, I posted photos of our BIG DIG, and told you all about how it took us THREE LONG HOURS to move all that snow. I also pointed out that the worst part was the big, icy snow bank left at the end of the driveway by the town snowplow.
I must say that I'm very thankful for our local snowplows. They are always out there as soon as the snow begins to accumulate, clearing our roads and making it safe to continue moving around the area, in spite of the snow. I LOVE that. I lived in Washington, D.C. for seven years where they do not know how to handle snow. At all.
Having said that, something happened yesterday that made my blood boil.
It was a beautiful, sunny day and I was happily (ha) cleaning out our basement and watching the inauguration. At one point, I actually saw a snowplow go down our road and I thought, "How nice; they are removing any last remnants of yesterday's storm." I didn't leave the house at all until after dark. And then...
When I went to back out of our driveway, I saw in the rearview mirror that the ever-loving snowplow had pushed a LOT of snow into our driveway. Well, it couldn't be THAT much. I'd just push through it.
I backed up and slammed into a three-foot high snow bank at the end of the driveway – that had NOT been there that morning. I pulled forward and got out to survey the damage. It seems the snowplow had been widening the road area and it dumped all the leftover snow in the driveways of residents along our road. Gee, thanks.
This while my husband was out of town for the night, so guess who got to drag out the snowblower in the dark and wrestle it through a bunch of very hard-packed snow? Well, I couldn’t leave it there. Temps were supposed to fall down below zero again and it would be as solid as a rock by morning.
So I removed more freakin snow from my driveway a full day-and-a-half AFTER the storm was over.
I'm just thankful the snowblower is so loud. That way the neighbors didn't hear me bringing down all kinds of curses on the snowplow driver, whomever he may be.
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