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By the time I woke up yesterday morning, we had 20.5 inches of snow in Arlington, which breaks all kinds of records, but at least the sun was out. Being the intrepid adventurer I am (ha), and having a rather important engagement downtown, I sallied forth to find my car.
At first, I was dazzled by the prettiness, and felt optimistic that my little ice scraper and I would be up to the job.
Less optimistic at this point. Wishing I owned a shovel. Or a broom, even. Anything. LONGER ARMS.
You know how I know that’s my car? It’s the third one I scraped off looking for it.
Snow, you will not defeat me.
Let me show you what I’m wearing. Because this is literally the warmest set of clothing I own, and I know you Minnesotans are laughing now, but we are unprepared for snow here. When I went to the store on Friday night to grab some last minute baking supplies, the guy in front of me spent $208 on organic baby food, diapers, pre-packaged store-brand soup, and Blue Moon ale. Hopefully he is having more fun than I am.
Progress! I’m doing so good!
Except that cleaning the car OFF is not the same as getting the car OUT. Again, I do not have a shovel. I have never missed my old 4-wheel drive Subaru before now.
Let’s do another feet check, just for fun. In fairness to my boots, I should note that my toes are still warm and dry. My knees, however, have lost all sensation. Here’s a little known fact: boots with a heel are better in the snow than flat boots. VERY MUCH THE OPPOSITE WHEN THERE IS ICE.
The leeward side of the car has less snow. Am using this “easier” phase of the scraping to prepare to beg the folks three cars over for a shovel. I think they’ll give it to me: people are much nicer in a crisis like this one than they are normally. Because it sucks for everyone, you know? One friend told me Metro used the few of its buses still running to transport homeless people to a shelter on Saturday.
Have secured the (plastic, toy, broken-handled) shovel. New problem presents itself: I know that driving with a lump of snow on your car is Dangerous, but has anyone considered that perhaps the horrible people that do it aren’t so much jerks as they are just really, really short?
Getting the snow out from behind my car means I have to pile it against the neighbor’s. I am a jerk after all.
And I’m out! This took me an hour.
So much easier to enjoy this now.
