Thanks for the Memories, February

As the month and snow slowly disappear, I think back to those few weeks of uncertainty that nearly brought the Mid Atlantic to a halt. I recall getting up and shoveling. Barely getting to work. Having an eight hour anxiety attack as I wondered how I would get home from work. Barely getting home. Shoveling before I went to bed.

Sure, this is still in the minds and driveways of a lot of us, but this month of struggles is melting away. And although I had an adventure every day, there is one that stands out from the rest. It is a tale of determination, motivation and the human spirit.

Let us begin…

It was one of those evenings when I was barely getting home. Leon the Neon was barely getting up any slight grades, but every inch I gained was another inch closer to home. So when I finally slid into my driveway, I came to the realization that I was snowed out. To make a long explanation slightly shorter, I did not have the garage door opener and the screen door to the front was locked (and I had no key). The only option I had was to go through the back door – which was barricaded by several feet of snow. And to get into the backyard, I had to scale a six foot mountain of snow that I had created during one of my “shoveling events.”

Luckily I had my boots with me in the car, so I strapped them on, tucked in the cuffs of my paper-thin pants and started up the mountain. After the first step, I realized the snow was up to my pelvis. Here we go.

So I trudged on through until I reached the gate, which wouldn’t budge for all the snow. So I had no choice but to jump it. With a mighty heave, I lifted myself over the fence, swinging my legs wide to the right as if I was running from the law. I landed on my feet – but into a fresh pile of snow.

Once in the backyard of virgin snow, I had to push extra hard. I climbed each snow-filled step to the top of the deck, pushed through more snow until I reached the door, where I ran into yet another problem – no shovel.

So before my thin wet pants froze to my legs, I started digging into the snow like a dog – using my paws – I mean hands – to push it away. Once I had a clear path, I tore off the ice cycles that encaged my house and was able to successfully open the door. And yes, I DID have my house key.

It was… fun, but it’s almost over now.

Or is it?

Tune in next week to find out!