Snow: I'm Shovelin' It!

Yesterday my area got about a foot of snow. Needless to stay I shirked my adult responsiblity of going to work and stayed home, but, luckily, I wasn't alone. Only one person from my department braved the blizzard and made it in. I actually feel kind of bad - she lives the farthest away out of any of us. Still, I sure enjoyed my day off. As did my mother and father and sister. It sure was a full house, only without the scrunchies and live-in uncles.

The only downside of a snow day is that you must shovel yourself out before the next day. I mean, you could wait til the next day to shovel, but the only thing worse than the impending doom of work after a snow day is the impending doom of work after a snowday AND having to shovel yourself out before your coffee has even started pumping through your veins.

As such, my mom and I went out in the late afternoon to shovel out the garage, two car ports, and the front walkway. Shoveling is one of my least favorite things to do. I still haven't mastered the concept of "lift with your legs, not with your back." It always feels, no matter what varied technique I try, that I am in fact using both parts of my body in the act of shoveling. No matter how slowly, or how hard I focus to try and make sure I am utilizing my leg muscles, my back still ends up tweaking out.

On top of back pain, fingers numbed by the frigid temperature, and arms that come to eventually feel like those of an unusually weak toddler, it's also one of the times I feel least attractive. I think shoveling is only beat out by actual illnes. Having bodily fluids forcibly projected out of one or several orifices, sweating like a junky on detox, and producing enough mucus to plug the hole in the ozone layer does not make one feel like a pretty, pretty princess.

Shoveling is not that much different. Being out in freezing temperatures and doing intensely physical work (hey, it is if you're idea of a work out is cleaning out the litter box!) turns your nose into a veritable snot faucet. And it is neither refreshing nor attractive. On top of that, you've piled on several layers of warm clothing, causing your body temperature to rise and your glands to start producing copious amounts of sweat. So you're standing in the cold, sweating your face off, feeling a sort of awkward, clammy temperature not unlike feverish stupors of illnesses past. Whisps of hair sticking out of your hat are plastered to your face and are, somehow, freezing into tiny icicles. Your cheeks, bit with cold, turn the bright red color displayed in winter-themed commercials as healthy and cute, only you stopped being able to feel them three minutes ago and you can't help but wonder if red has turned to black and doctors will be forced to surgically remove your face due to horribly disfiguring frostbite. Your arms hang slack at your sides, barely able to grip the shovel's handle, let alone lift it above your waist whilst filled with snow, in order to fling it far from your body and the path you're trying to clear. The ground is slick with ice, so as you attempt your work you slip and slide around, flailing and spazzing, jerking your body around in a foolish attempt at keeping your balance.

You end up looking like an invalid with mental issues, is what happens. Shoveling is mock illness. All the symptoms are there, but you aren't actually sick. I don't care what fuzzy, cutesy hat you wear, or how colorful your scarf is, it is utterly impossible to look attractive while shoveling. This is science, people! Proven, age-old facts!

That being said, I don't exactly put in a whole lot of effort when shoveling. My mother has her shoveling technique perfected. She drops the shovel blade straight down into the snow about a foot into whatever drift she has chosen, effectively chopping out and defining a smaller section. She then goes at this section horizontally, scooping it away in layers. I'm not particularly gifted at explaining things, so I hope that made some semblance of sense. Either way, she always creates clear cut, neat paths with her method.

Mine is the madness. I shovel at random will, here, there and back again, creating a complete crumbly mess. I'm lazy. I don't get many days off, and to be forced into manual labor on such a gift of a day is just unfair. I resent this, and thusly half-ass the clean up job. And I make sure I look pathetic while doing it, hoping someone (my mom), will take pity on me and say "You poor girl! I can't believe you have to shovel on your day off! Here, put down that shovel, and go sit on your buttocks in your warm home! I will shovel for you from this day forward! You'll never lift this beastly snow-removal tool again!" Needless to say, I'm still waiting.

As my shoveling came to a close, wondering why no neighborhood child had wandered over and offered to shovel it all for 20$ (a steal, indeed! Though probably because I don't really live so much in a neighborhood as on a street of speeding death), I heard the faint but distinct sound of snowmobiles in the distance. A thought suddenly came to me, and it seemed like I would finally make my well-deserved millions.

Snowmobile plows! If we attach a smaller plow to a snowmobile then they could get to all the tricky, hard to reach areas of driveways and walkways with ease! I would absolutely pay someone to snowmobile plow the parts of my driveway the truck plow missed - I mean, who wouldn't?? Clearly, I was onto something! Alas, a quick query in google and all my hopes and dreams of vast fortunes were crushed. Snowmobile plows already exist, and why no one is cashing in on this in my neighborhood is a mystery to me. It would bring childhood entrepreneurship to a whole new, lazy level. And that's something my own lazy behind can, well, get behind.