I Think That Snow Has A Warped Sense Of Humor

Yesterday’s snowstorm had me worried that I would be sitting on Lindbergh for two hours to get home just like last time. So, remembering what happened previously, we came up with a plan of attack earlier that morning. I would take an alternate route that was flatter to avoid spinning my wheels on those pesky hills and coast all the way home. Oh yeah, and also pee before I leave the office. 4:30 hit and with one last dash to the bathroom, I headed home. It was actually kind of creepy driving home though because there was NO ONE on any of the roads. I felt lonely out there on Lindbergh (usually, it is packed in both directions). I sort of expected to see some tumbleweeds roll in front of my car, it was that deserted. Because there was no one for me to endanger, I actually made it home in pretty good time with no problems whatsoever. Until I turned into my neighborhood. Mr. Squeakers was having a little trouble navigating himself through the unplowed streets but he was making it, slowly but surely. Then we got stuck, 20 FEET FROM MY DRIVEWAY!!! Damn it! Why me? AHHHHH! Isn’t that just a kick in the head? And to think, I wouldn’t have any problems this time. After five minutes of spinning my tires, turning the car off and on, screaming profanities and pulling out my hair, he finally inched his way onto the driveway, just enough that no one would hit the back of my car driving along. And there my car stayed because he did not want to go to his home. WHY DON’T YOU WANT TO GO INTO YOUR HOME?!? I had to get out and shovel the driveway to try and clear a path. And who should show up while I’m busy cursing the gods and flinging snow around like a lunatic but the stupid plow guy! Where the hell were you before I turned into the neighborhood?

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