In another five years, I'll have able bodied boys to dig us out when the bitter snow removal-workers-who-have-to-work-on-Christmas-night plow us in with a wall of snow that is as hard as ice, three feet tall and four feet thick.
Until then, we'll have to wait for the city to send the loader to scoop up this mess.
Maybe we were supposed to tip the plow drivers for Christmas? Or maybe the plow driver had a little too much holiday cheer before hitting his route in the storm?
I guess I'm not going anywhere today!