This week, my goal for the week is to sit down and write a letter to the Olympic committee and submit a new event idea, which involves snow shoveling.
After spending half of my morning doing just that, I deem it worthy enough to be in the next Winter Olympics.
Why on earth was I shoveling snow? Don’t I have a strong, masculine husband for that?
Yes, yes I do. And that strong, masculine husband shovels the snow all the time. Inevitably, as soon as he shovels the snow, it snows again the next day.
In hopes of having the opposite effect, I thought I would give it a shot. And after getting an e-mail from that strong, masculine husband, saying he spent quite a bit of time this morning trying to get four inches of snow off of his windshield so he could get to work, I thought to myself, “How wonderful would I be if I had the sidewalks shoveled for him when he got home?”
While Sloane was down for nap No. 1 of the day, I shoved my feet into my snow boots, put on my parka that was purchased specifically for the cold winters in Manhattan, found some gloves and went out to the tundra I call my backyard.
I started shoveling away and immediately noticed that I am out of shape.
And that this was NOT going to be an easy task!
But I was NOT giving up!
20 minutes later, the back sidewalk was shoveled and I had no one to share my excitement with except Wrigley… who I immediately had to beat when I found him sitting on the couch. I told him that next time he was on the couch, HE was going out to shovel.
Sloane woke up shortly after I was finished so I couldn’t move to the front yard until nap No. 2 was started.
I had to run some errands so Sloane and I walked down the shoveled back sidewalk to the partially shoveled driveway (HEY! A girl has to stop somewhere!) and went on our merry way.
When we got back, Sloane went down for a nap, I went back to my parka and snow boots and found myself on the front steps, looking at this.
I was slightly scared, but knew that if I could accomplish this, I could accomplish anything (give or take a few anythings!).
Off I went.
Shovel. Throw. Shovel. Throw. Repeat.
After making it halfway down the sidewalk and only wanting to keel over two times, I stopped for a breather. And a picture.
I also stopped to take a picture when I noticed I was shoveling so hard that these substances that you people down south call dirt and grass were starting to show up in my snow heaves. I haven’t seen these substances since November… it’s kind of hard to remember what they look like! I must say… it gave me a glimmer of hope that Spring was around the corner.
Until I woke up from the quick dream and saw the dirt and grass was piled on top of three feet of snow.
On I went.
Shovel. Throw. Shovel. Throw.
Eventually, I made it to the end, where the sidewalk meets the road. Unfortunately, we can’t see the road anymore so it’s kind of just a continuing sidewalk… but I wanted to make sure this was shoveled best so when the husband arrived home, he did not step into a huge pile of snow. This was done for two reasons: 1) to please the husband and 2) so he won’t walk in my house and bring three inches of snow with him on his shoes.
Eventually, I finished the job and made it back inside. I was going to take a picture of how I made it back into the house and on to the front doormat without getting any snow or snow tracks in the house to show the husband that it can be done.
But I thought that he might not appreciate that picture as much as he would appreciate this one…
Now after recanting my day as a snow shoveler, I’ve realized that a) I need a hot bath and deep-tissue massage and b) I might have permanently screwed myself with this shoveling adventure. Maybe I shouldn’t have done such a good job… He might make me go back out and do it again tonight!