It snowed last night.
A lot.
You know; the kind of snow that makes it almost impossible to open your freakin’ back door and get out of your house? Worse, it fell on top of the same kind (and amount) of snow that fell two days ago. The large accumulations that always come when the weather people are forecasting a dusting to an inch. The kind that always comes when your husband is out of state and your adult son is unable to help. Massive snowfall.
I woke up my (adult) son.
Me: “Hey, give me your car keys and I’ll start your car. What time do you have to be at work? You’re going to need some extra time today.”
Him: “Hrumph.”
I started his car. I cleaned it off. After he left, I woke my (teenaged) daughter. Made her lunch. Then I grabbed my snow gear (note: it is really MOM who needs the snow pants, not the kids) and headed outside to (try to) shovel.
You know, it’s hard to shovel when the snow banks are over your head.
As I was freezing my ass off (25 degrees here) and my feet were going numb (my knee high boots were too short; the snow was higher and piled into them every time I took a step, and my socks had migrated somewhere into the boot and were no longer covering my feet), my thoughts were interrupted by my aforementioned (did I say she’s 13?) daughter waving and smiling at me from the window.
What is wrong with this picture?
…to be continued…
Karen Creamer Author, Coach, Speaker 