And the Lord spake thusly unto Noah:
And I will establish my covenant with you, neither shall all flesh be cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more be a flood to destroy the earth.
He didn’t say a damned thing, however, about snow:
[W]hen something like this blizzard falls upon my neighborhood, I don’t wait for some hireling to come to clear my driveway; I don my cold-weather togs and attack it myself.
But strength isn’t everything. There are other considerations to be respected in addressing an onerous task like clearing several tons of snow from an oversized driveway. One of them is endurance. Another is pulmonary capacity. Another is pain.
Yes indamndeedy. I have sort of learned to pace myself, but impatience shows up rather rapidly when I look to see how much is still left. To cite the most recent Major Winter Event at the palatial estate at Surlywood, thirty-five feet of driveway times a 12-inch depth times seven feet wide is 225 cubic feet of the stuff, not counting the sidewalk; it does not relocate willingly without help from the sun, which of course takes the day off because of bad weather.
And God, in His mercy, has spared me since then:
In that horrible month of February ’11, I broke my snow shovel; after waiting for the spring price break, I bought one of those not quite industrial-strength, but still formidable-looking, pushers, and dared the stuff to occupy my driveway. Total snowfall for the winter of ’11-’12: 1.8 inches. The thing is standing in the garage, still wrapped. If I thought for a moment this would work again, I’d buy another one.
Total snowfall for the winter of ’12-’13 through today: 1.4 inches. (Seasonal normal is around 8-9 inches.) I have yet to unwrap the Mystery Device. And yes, this is a dare, since they’re predicting widespread misery for tomorrow.