I had slugged down two Two Hearted Ale’s and was feeling good about shoveling some evening snow. It had come down in that effortless way snow always falls and inspired me in some odd and meaningless way.
I had arrived back home from a useless work meeting where we watched ten-minute videos about the college I work for. We also saw a Power Point slide show and listened to all sorts of absurd questions. I had carpooled with a lady who lives in my town and the two of us found ourselves laughing as we listened to the middle aged, bald man breathe heavily as he shoveled food into his mouth. He had been about an hour late and it is doubtful at best that the food was still remotely warm.
We walked out to the car amidst what my wife would playfully call a winter wonderland. I would have used quotes for winter wonderland, but that sort of thing really bugs me. The overuse of quotation marks is something I suffer through whenever I teach a “Creative Writing” course. The snow on the car wiped away like a name you never had any intention of remembering. Light, crisp and full of hope this snow was. Placing the red quesadilla maker I had won at my work meeting in the back seat, I grabbed the new snow brush/scrapper and quickly dusted off the snow. My co-worker and fellow townie helped me out with the use of her gloves and we were off.
Slow going it was on 696. Yeah, that’s the second “Yoda talk” line. There’s almost nothing better than going 40 miles per hour on the highway. Of course sometimes there is nothing worse. Tonight, with the crisp snow combating the vicious cold I enjoyed the slow rolling drive.
I phoned some friends after dropping off my co-worker/townie/friend, but to no avail. They were staying in for the night resting up for the intense week they were not yet half way through. I took the long way home enjoying the snow filled, slow going streets.
After relaxing with two beers and a book I had the urge to shovel. I knew the snow would keep falling, but wanted to be outside in the fluffy magic. I went upstairs and changed out of my jeans and into my sweet snowboards pants I had got in Kentucky over Thanksgiving. I found them at a TJ Max for a hell of a price as well as a pair of snowboard mittens! Sporting these items, as well as some fleece boots that are now ten years old, a sweater from my mother in law, which I was hesitant to wear because I like it so much and it’s really nice and I feel bad about sweating in nice things I like; and my jacket bought in Japan—hat too, I took not to the streets, but the driveway and sidewalks.
Outside it felt much warmer than earlier when I had suffered through a twenty-minute bike ride. Snow always makes it feel warmer. I began scarping the snow away from the pavement and it was as effortless to remove it from the ground as it was for it to arrive there. At 11:00 at night the shovel made the loudest noise for what seemed to be miles. I was about to shovel the neighbor’s drive, but thought better of it. They just had a baby and I was hesitant enough making the noise in my own drive. I felt bad for shoveling, but also felt bad for feeling bad about it and kept on. Sometimes I think too much about my impact. Take at a restaurant after we pay. I feel the need to get out of my seat instantly. It’s stupid and annoying. There are plenty of other times and scenarios when I care too little, but this is about shoveling snow.
The shoveling was smooth and everything was illuminated in the glow of white. Shortly before finishing, we live on a corner and have lots of sidewalk, I felt a hunger that matched my after swim hunger to perfection. It was a true hunger, a well-earned hunger and I looked forward to going inside and micro waving some veggie hot wings. The scrap of the shovel echoed down the block and I looked forward to seeing my wife once she got home from making cookies with her mother. A cookie would be a great compliment to the Morningstar Wings and Two Hearted Ale.
Now, unlike the snow I leave you to get back to the reading before the shoveling.
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