Not because I’m lazy – though I’d listen to arguments.
Not because someone else in the house volunteered – though I think they would… my “OCDADHDTV just won’t allow it.
No, I shoveled once because, for the first time in nearly 40 years in the Midwest, I only had to shovel once. Winter in Michigan last year was so mild that I could actually see Al Gore smirking from my front porch. It was bizarre. It would almost be like folks in Seattle using their umbrella once during the spring. In my corner of the world, snow happens.
This season, however, has been a different story. Besides a brief “Charo on The Love Boat“-like cameo appearance last week, I haven’t seen anything green outside since before Christmas. It’s been cold. It’s been windy. And it’s been snowing…. and snowing….. and snowing. Most years we’ll get a good snow… then it will melt away. Then another few inches will fall a week or so later. Then gone again.
Not this year, Sir. It’s snowing almost everyday. No major accumulations, just consistent coatings of snow. Which, of course, means constant shoveling.
You finish the job each time and, once you’ve shed some of the cold, wet clothes, you look out the front window to admire your work only to feel deflated by all of the new snow that has fallen on your once pristine driveway. You shake your head and have the “why do I even bother” conversation with yourself.
You worked hard.
You would have rather been doing something else, but you knew what you had to do… and you did it.
You were proud to get it done.
You’d accomplished something.
Now look… it was like you’d never been there.
So you throw your gear back on and head back out.
It’s not quite as cold this time. You’re kind of use to it.
The snow’s not as heavy. You did the heavy lifting the first time.
You follow the path that you shoveled on the first go round, so you get done a little quicker.
Back in the house warming up, you look out the window again. Snow is still falling. Your work isn’t over, but you’re carving a path. Each time you go out, it’s a little easier the next time. The path keeps getting covered up and the finished product is never perfect… but you keep going out there. Meanwhile, everyone who waited for the snow to stop falling is just making their job tougher when they reach the point where they can’t wait anymore.
Sometimes the snow keeps falling. Are you going to keep getting out there? Or are you going to watch from the window?