Careful What You Wish For…

At this time last week in Minneapolis, there were sparse pockets of melting snow. I was dismayed. I wanted some freaking snow. I like the challenge of inclement weather. Nothing adds drama to everyday activities like a good blizzard. It triggers survival mode, it awakens primal instincts. No task is monotonous when “the climate is actively trying to kill you.”

So until the snow started coming down fast and furious last Saturday, Ambular had to endure my bitching and moaning. I was supremely disappointed last Saturday morning when I woke-up to find less than an inch of snow. I was geared-up for an avalanche after listening to the local forecasters talk about the possibility likelihood of a “monster snow storm.” I was angry; I made irrational threats on Paul Douglas’ life.

As Saturday wore-on though, more and more snow fell. I was excited. Ambular, Laura, and I went to David and Carols for their sweet Hawaii 5-0 party. By the time we left all the metro roads were covered with at least 3 inches of snow. Even the free-ways were awash in white.

Everything was going fine until I tried to coax the Malibu into the alley and onto the garage. I had to shovel a path to attempt to gain enough momentum to make it up the slight incline. No luck. No problem, I’ll just try the other end of the alley. Drive to the corner, get stuck. Shovel, rock the Bu out. Get to the other end of the alley, get stuck. Shovel, rock the Bu out.

At this point it is 2:30 in the morning and my excitement is quickly being replaced with frustration. I come to grip with the fact that my car will have to spend the night on the street. I pick-out a spot near the alley entrance and shovel a spot for it. After a little maneuvering I get the Bu into its temporary home. And trudge home and collapse into bed.

Since then it has been nothing but a lot of shoveling. Another snow-dump this weekend, and I’ve had enough snow for the year.