There's four or five inches of the stuff outside -- on the sidewalks, on the alley, on the roads...on my car.
Snow makes Tam a little giddy; it's still something of a novelty and reminds her of no-school days spent drinking cocoa, reading and having snowball fights (repeat 'til sundown) instead of being blown off the road late on a Friday and only getting home because a busload of High School basketball players happened by on their way back from winning, stopped, and set your car back on the road (with you in it!) by the simple expedient of surrounding it, getting a good grip and lifting. Or the moonlit, snowdrifted 4:00 a.m. in the middle of nowhere when I suddenly realized the road usually had a dip in it about where I was...as my pickup ground to a halt in the deepening drifts. That one took three hours of digging with the only tool available, the previous year's license plate: dig three feet, get in, rock the truck forward and back for four feet of progress and do it all over again 'til I was out of the deepest snow.*
On the other hand, those things are exactly what the snow make me think of. I'm for the shower. There's a little digging and a lot of tricky driving ahead.
* Yes, I drove an F150 for a couple of years. The price was right and I was moving from one city to another when I bought it, so I saved the moving-truck rental, too.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
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