Memo to Ol' Man Winter: I give up. You win.
I was going to take a day off and go skiing this week. How ironic.
I am pretty sure that I have singlehandedly moved at least three tons of show over the last few days. I used to like snow. I'm from New England, for chrissakes. Growing up we had storms measured in feet. But we also had a Gravely Tractor with a snowblower attachment and a plow. We had awesome hills for sledding. I owned a set of snowshoes which got pretty regular workouts. One winter we had 10 feet of snow piled up against the fence at the lower end of the driveway. My friend Mitch and I made a snow fort, complete with secret entrances, tunnels, etc.
In college up in Worcester, MA we also had massive snowstorms measured in feet. Inconvenient for a day, maybe two, but you could drive a rear-wheel drive car down any street in town within 2 days of the show ending.
I've experienced some pretty big dumps of snow since moving to the DC area in 1977, but this officially takes the cake. I measured 20 inches in the side yard last Saturday after that storm wound down. Now we're scheduled for another 10+ storm with winds, etc. just to add to the fun. I don't like snow anymore. I hurt for all the wrong reasons. I've done nothing but shovel for the last three days. Looks like I'll get to do it all over again. Getting old sucks.
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