Cold
I almost got locked outside of my house this morning.
I'd gone outside and shoveled my driveway early. The plow trucks clear the parking lot but don't do individual driveways, so we are left to fend for ourselves if we want a clear area in which we don't have to worry about breaking legs or other various body parts.
Until last year, I never shoveled. I used to spread some salt, when the association would put out garbage cans full of it on the corner. But now they've gotten cheap and have figured out that they wouldn't be liable anyway, so why bother.
My ex-boyfriend got me a shovel last year for Christmas. The gift that keeps on giving. Right up there with the extension cord, the Hallmark candle and the potato masher. I wanted a potato ricer, not a masher. There is more than one reason that we were not compatable.
So now I use the shovel. I go out after walking on the treadmill and do it while my heartrate is still up, fooling myself into thinking that I'm still really kinda getting exercise while shovelling. I'm not, really. The driveway is so small that there isn't much damage I could do to myself in the amount of time it takes to clear the area. Although, I must admit, my back hurt the other day and it took me until this morning to realize that it was because I was chipping and and clearing ice from the driveway last weekend.
I grab the shovel and go out the front door, leaving the door open and shutting the screen door behind me. I shovel the driveway and even consider shovelling for the neighbors, but then think better of it. Then I prop the shovel by the garage door so I can pull it in when I leave and then step up to the door.
The screen door has one of those push putton handles--the verticle ones with a big button on the top. The button, of course, is located under a bend in the gutter three flights up. And the gutter leaks. Do you see where this is going?
There's ice all over the handle. And it is frozen all over the button. Thereby making it impossible to actually depress the button and open the door. I'm wearing a coat, sweatpants, a sportsbra and a coat. Not good.
I'm outside for approximately 15 minutes--the time it took for me to find a rock in the small planter area in front of my condominium and chisel away at the ice on the handle.
I then went inside, sat on the couch and wondered if it was too early for a Bloody Mary.
I'd gone outside and shoveled my driveway early. The plow trucks clear the parking lot but don't do individual driveways, so we are left to fend for ourselves if we want a clear area in which we don't have to worry about breaking legs or other various body parts.
Until last year, I never shoveled. I used to spread some salt, when the association would put out garbage cans full of it on the corner. But now they've gotten cheap and have figured out that they wouldn't be liable anyway, so why bother.
My ex-boyfriend got me a shovel last year for Christmas. The gift that keeps on giving. Right up there with the extension cord, the Hallmark candle and the potato masher. I wanted a potato ricer, not a masher. There is more than one reason that we were not compatable.
So now I use the shovel. I go out after walking on the treadmill and do it while my heartrate is still up, fooling myself into thinking that I'm still really kinda getting exercise while shovelling. I'm not, really. The driveway is so small that there isn't much damage I could do to myself in the amount of time it takes to clear the area. Although, I must admit, my back hurt the other day and it took me until this morning to realize that it was because I was chipping and and clearing ice from the driveway last weekend.
I grab the shovel and go out the front door, leaving the door open and shutting the screen door behind me. I shovel the driveway and even consider shovelling for the neighbors, but then think better of it. Then I prop the shovel by the garage door so I can pull it in when I leave and then step up to the door.
The screen door has one of those push putton handles--the verticle ones with a big button on the top. The button, of course, is located under a bend in the gutter three flights up. And the gutter leaks. Do you see where this is going?
There's ice all over the handle. And it is frozen all over the button. Thereby making it impossible to actually depress the button and open the door. I'm wearing a coat, sweatpants, a sportsbra and a coat. Not good.
I'm outside for approximately 15 minutes--the time it took for me to find a rock in the small planter area in front of my condominium and chisel away at the ice on the handle.
I then went inside, sat on the couch and wondered if it was too early for a Bloody Mary.
posted by Miss Head at
9:23 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home