So today at about 9:30, I opened the front door to the expected blizzard. I shoveled a path to the driveway and then quit before I had a heart attack. Yes, it was still snowing, but it’s easier to shovel a foot of snow at a time than it is to shovel four, and this stuff isn’t supposed to stop until eight tonight. We’re getting two to three inches an hour. You do the math.
The dogs do not do math. I went inside, yelled, “Outside!” (their favorite word next to “Cookie!”) and Milton and Mona raced through the door.
“YAY, we’re outside!”
“Wait a minute. Where’s the grass?”
Then Milton discovered I’d only shoveled to the end of the patio.
“Is this a joke? Is this one of those human jokes? ‘Cause you’re laughing. NOT FUNNY.”
“Forget this. I’m outta here.”
“Nope, nope, nope.”
If you’re wondering where Veronica is, Veronica does not do nature. It’s tacky and there are no soft blankets or electric mattress pads, plus there’s all that annoying wildlife she has to bark at. It’s exhausting. She’ll go out if there’s a cookie involved, but then she’s at the gate, looking at me like “Really, you think I’m going to stay out here with the lowlife squirrels and birds. INSIDE. NOW.” If she had a tin cup, she’d be dragging it against the bars of the picket fence.
We’re all inside now. Mona is snuggled down into plushy blankets. Milton is under the plushy blankets in order to be closer to the electric mattress pad. Veronica is smug, dry and warm and not coated with snow. All is well.
Except for me. I’m gonna have at least another foot of snow to shovel. And then there’s the driveway. It’s a good day to stay inside.
(For those who worry, I have four dozen bottles of water, a huge stack of firewood, three recharging batteries for my electronics on full charge, and enough food for the apocalypse. The power will undoubtedly go out shortly, but this is not my first blizzard. No worries.)