Snowbank Sweet Snowbank.

Nothing strikes terror in one’s heart after a glorious weekend with your lover in New York than these two heinous words: “Welcome Home.”

I’ve often thought that there is just one good thing about living where we live and that’s the fact that it’s easier to go somewhere else. After a beautiful weekend in The Big Apple, we drove up our road to our driveway to find that we couldn’t find it. There was a wall of about 4 1/2 feet of snow where the driveway should have been. The only way I knew the location of the driveway was because the two five-foot high posts I had installed earlier this year had their very tops showing. So I did the sensible thing.

I tried to drive through the snow bank.

With the Malibu.

What an idiot.

Naturally I got far enough into the driveway that I was able to bury the front of the car and trap us inside because we couldn’t open the doors. Earl briefly yelled at me for putting on the brake as I tried to make the plunge, which invoked my super powers enough to be able to force the door open. I trudged up the driveway, which had almost a foot of snow in it, got myself in the garage and grabbed a shovel and trudged back. I then started digging the car out. Earl and I took turns digging and rocking the car. I finally got out the snowblower and was able to clean out around the car a little bit. Earl then pushed while I rocked and then we rolled.

An hour or so later the driveway was clean long enough for it to start snowing hard again. I don’t care what it looks like in the morning.

Our area has been on the national news quite a bit because of the weather. One thing they keep talking about is the community spirit where neighbor is helping neighbor with a glow usually found around a fireplace and several glasses of brandy. Not here. The neighbors watched from their snug little houses as Earl and I huffed and puffed to get the car out of the road (which was unsurprisingly busy with big SUVs being driven by women with big hair) and into the driveway. I no longer care if I have to fire up the snowblower at 4 a.m. Tomorrow morning as they look out the window I’ll just wave back.

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