Snow Job

(Editor's Note: This is my adaptation of a joke I got in an email. It's like the anonymous sign in the auto parts store "The beatings will stop when morale improves" or the anti-stress poster "Beat your head here until you don't feel any more stress".I have no idea who started it but I have replaced some of the expletives for the sake of propriety.)

We always have loved the mountains. We lived in southern California for so long and are so tired of the traffic, the crime, the . . . well, you know.

So when I finally retired and the kids were all gone we sold out and moved to the High Sierra where they have four REAL seasons as opposed to our one (smog).

The first winter storm was just gorgeous. Magnificent white flakes (no one is the same, did you know that?) fluttered down from the night sky to embrace our home with a sugary coating. It was easy to shovel the driveway, too. The neighbor said it was a "dry snow", whatever that means.

Oh, now it's Thanksgiving and I've got some REAL shoveling to do. Ha ha ! It's a little heavy though, the storm was a little more "serious" according to Fred but hey, this is what we wanted, to get back in touch with Mother Nature, right?

A little sore this morning, but nothing a session in the hot tub can't cure. Power is out though, so I'll hope the tub works tomorrow.

Wow, I can hardly see the hot tub now, this last storm really clobbered us! But this is why we moved here: snow up to the fence-tops, that's Mother Nature at work!

Broke the shovel today, need to go buy another but can't get out of the driveway.

The snowplow piled a mountain DIRECTLY in front of my driveway! Can you believe this guy!?! And to beat that, it's frozen now. Solid ice. Still don't have a new shovel.

Okay, I get it. You need to know the home phone number of the plow driver and probably threaten his children. How come the schools get plowed out and I don't, hmmmm? He might be Mafia or maybe related to that jerk I fired a couple of years ago.

The little woman is getting testy. Splitting and hauling wood to cook on our Decorator Wood Stove was not in our plan but with my injured back what does she expect???

I'm really freaking tired of this. That bloody plowman is on my list now. Every time my snowblower (with electric start but the power is still out) breaks down HERE HE COMES AGAIN !! HE KNOWS I HATE HIM. He KNOWS that I put the garbage cans right where he can KNOCK THEM OVER. Hah! I am going to find out where he lives and sic Guido on him !!!

Power has been off for three days now and we are living on cans of Chef Boyardee and beginning to enjoy it. My lower back is now in the 'don't even talk to me' stage and the wife is threatening to go back to southern California where she says the sun is still shining.

Alright. I'm not going to deal with this neanderthal plow guy any more. If I see him I'll shoot his #*@!? little truck right in the gas tank. The wife and I have separated and my letters to the editor are going nowhere.

They wrapped me in this funny suit today just because I was running up the street and I forgot to get dressed first. It's a Scandanavian thing but they claim I torched the house on purpose. They just don't understand . . . . it’s because I just don’t want to shovel anymore!