Monday, February 16, 2015

Only 424 Steps

How to dig out in 424 grueling steps:
  1. Call the guy I pay to plow the driveway in the forlorn hope that he somehow just forgot me.   No.  Blown-in snow is too dense and heavy to plow.  He tried and got no more than 3 feet.
  2. Call the farm down the road and see if they could possibly come over with their big tractor and 7' wide snow blower.  No, the big tractor is broken (at least I'm not the only one).
  3. Call the other guy guy down the road and see if he could come with his tractor and front-end loader to dig me out.  No.  That tractor is broken too.  It's an epidemic of useless, crappy, old machinery.
  4. Acknowledge the truth that I knew all along - this problem is up to me, myself and I to fix.  We'd better stop squabbling and whining and get to work.
  5. Drag in precious little Prima Dona snow blower so it can warm up by the fire cause noway, nohow is Precious gonna start without it's morning warmup.
   6.  After throwing more food to horse and donkeys who are jumping out of their skins from cold and boredom, start shoveling because noway, nohow is Precious gonna get through this without making a path for it first.
  
   7. Exercise extreme restraint and DO NOT have screaming, swearing fit at stir-crazy Border Collie puppy when he attacks the shovel for the 500th time.  Get him appropriate toy and resume.  Again.

Only a 1000 miles still to go.
 
   8. Rejoice in momentary feeling of triumph when we finally get to the end. 

   9. Squelch idiotic moment of triumph cause we aren't even remotely done yet.

   10.  Call work and tell them I am just as likely to get to the moon today as I am to get to work.

   11.  Finally get Precious started and doing some work.  Be sure to only feed it small bites of snow so that Precious doesn't choke.

   12 through 379.  Repeat, repeat, repeat....

   380.  Go in to house to use bathroom and warm up frozen hands.  Leave gloves on wood-stove to warm up.

   381.  Run to answer phone, hoping someone is calling about a miraculous tractor repair.  No, don't be silly.

   382.  Reach for glass to get a drink and smell something funny.

   383.  Rush downstairs and rescue gloves just before they burst into flames.

   384.  Throw more food at annoyed equines.  Try to get fingers into scorched, shrunken gloves that now smell awful.

   385 through 420.  Repeat steps 12 - 379 until Precious runs out of gas.

   421.  DO have screaming, swearing fit at gas can when it proves to be empty.

   422. Call RB and beg for more gas.  Thank you RB and Noblewoman.

   423.  Repeat steps 12 - 379 until the @#% &! job is done at around 8:00pm.

   424.  Clean barn, fill hay nets, appease annoyed equines, find appropriate toy for puppy.  Again.  

19 comments:

  1. You, yourself, are quite Precious, you know.

    ReplyDelete
  2. HOLY MOLY!!!! I so wish I could send you some sunshine from CA and you could give us some of this snow for drought ridden So. Cal.
    What a day you must have had. My dog rages at leaf blower. She wants to murder it. and same thing with shovel. If you are someone who enjoys a drink once in awhile, you sure deserve after all your labors.
    Hope Mother Nature cuts you some slack.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am feeling your pain- especially with the BC. But I like how you keep your sense of humour. if you can, invest in a small tractor with a front end loader. It's worth it. If I ever win the lottery I"m buying a big tractor with the snow blower. of course it would help if I bought lotto tickets......

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yikes. We were talking about this today since last year we were drifted in countless times. Hubby could use the skid steer to dig and then plow and then dig and then plow...once we got to the road. Well, we had to wait for the gigantic town road grader to come through and a plow truck to follow.
    That took 24 more hours after we dug ourselves out.
    But then our wonderful township came in and made our driveway even larger.
    I think I would have cussed and said F-it.
    I admire your tenacity.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wish I could take some of that snow off your hands. All we keep getting is good for nothing cold, and occasional snow flurries. Have to drive over three hours to find any decent snow to play in, and it's marginal. I'm sure playing in the snow is the last thing on your mind, after clearing it from that looong driveway. You deserve a nice warm vacation, or spring - whichever comes first!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Good grief! Your driveway is a full time job and you are super woman for getting 'er done. I also feel your pain. After living at our farm for 34 years (shoveling a very long driveway) we broke down and got a snow blower. It has been getting a workout. This to shall pass?????

    ReplyDelete
  7. Good GRIEF!!! I can't believe you lived to tell about this job! Are you still in one piece, is your back still intact? Guess this is where all the exercise from hay bale lifting and wood splitting really paid off. Phenomenal job!

    ReplyDelete
  8. I take it all back. I'm very glad I've never seen (or had to shovel) snow!

    ReplyDelete
  9. You need to teach Connor how to run Precious--two problems solved at once ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  10. Don't yell or scowl, but this was so well written I could feel your pain and frustration and then had to smile!

    We're in Michigan and snow levels are not as bad as you have, but our temps our ridiculous.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Yup that is about how it goes! I feel for you - been there done that and likely will again!

    ReplyDelete
  12. I shall never again complain about my driveway. I would have had a meltdown around #4. But then I would have picked myself up and done what you did but with no Precious. Just two long tracks in the snow. Also, there would be certain to be a farmer here with the right equipment if only I wouldnt rather poke my eye out than ask them for help. Why haven't we just walked to the road and stuck our thumb out?

    ReplyDelete
  13. Oh my gawd woman!!!! I wish I could come up there and help you, better yet I wish I could pull a big ole tractor out of the sky and give it to you cause YOU SOOOOO DESERVE IT!!!!! I would have said F***it - for sure. You are an admirable, determined woman. Amazing. Just amazing. However, can I just say one thing??? Your writing is incredible. I was seriously, right there with you, feeling your pain and your frustrations. Precious needs her ass kicked. You NEED a vacation in the tropics. And alcohol. Flowery damned umbrella and all. :) Keeping you in my prayers for an early spring...

    ReplyDelete
  14. When I was a kid out driveway was shaped like a "L". No matter which way the wind blew if drifted in half the driveway. And if it was a wild night the whole thing would be plugged. Looking at your driveway was despair embodied because there's just you and a shovel. Well done. Feel free to slap any doctor who in the future dares to say "Yes, but being active isn't the same as having a good excercise routine......"

    ReplyDelete
  15. Kris, I almost can't bear to read this or look at the pictures. I shoveled out my long drive at the first Calamity Acres by hand... it was miserable, hard, back-breaking work. Even with the shoveling... I left the car parked at the end of the drive for a week, fearing to pull down to the house. I don't know how you are getting through this terrible winter in such good spirits.

    ReplyDelete