This winter I have become slightly obsessed with shoveling. Now that I have my own house, I shovel before work, I shovel as soon as I get home from work, and I shovel before I go to bed. I'm convinced that doing so will help me avoid the snow and ice ever becoming insurmountable. But I still make sure to tell everyone who comes to my house that although I have shoveled, there is still some snow and ice so they should exercise caution, and I cannot guarantee their safety.
Well, today there is a "blizzard warning," so I figured if there was ever a day to shovel, today was it. When I got home, I shoveled my stairs and walkway, and a path to my car, which is what I usually do. But about 9:30pm, I suddenly felt compelled to shovel the driveway as well, because I had finally given in and started checking the weather. There was already 5-6 inches accumulated, and they were predicting another 6-8 inches by tomorrow. If they are even close to right, that might make it tough to get out in the morning. I did learn that "blizzard warning" relates to visibility and wind, and is not related to the quantity of snow at all. But still.
So, I headed outside to shovel my driveway. At first it was fun. I felt like I had an excuse to play in the snow again for the first time in years.
But then after about 10 minutes, I realized I had cleared one little strip down the side of my driveway and still had a long way to go. But it was still pretty fun to watch my progress. Gradually I began to think about how you hear stories about middle-aged men having heart attacks shoveling, or just pulling out their backs. I thought, "Tomorrow, I better tell my trainer that I was shoveling tonight so I don't end up extra sore." Then I finished the front part of my driveway and I got excited and it looked so clean and I was very proud.
When I turned around to finish the small strip closer to my car, I realized it wasn't that small after all. So I kept on shoveling, but began to get a little annoyed as I realized my thighs were freezing, but I was also sweating. And then I thought, "This is why I need a husband." But immediately I realized that if I had a husband, I just knew I would still be the one shoveling. He would have to be at work too late or too early or need his sleep or just be so grateful when I did it or a weakling or have a plastic arm or something. Regardless, I knew I better get used to shoveling because married or not I would be doing it hundreds more times in my life.
As I got closer to the end, I started to enjoy myself again. I turned on the flashing snowflakes that light my walkway and it suddenly seemed magical. I almost started playing in the snow, but it had just started coming down again. It was forty minutes later, but as I surveyed my reasonably neatly shoveled driveway, and enjoyed the sparkling light reflecting off the snow, I had a rare moment of appreciating nature. It was just so pretty!