No artsy shot from me today. Instead, here's the sight I was greeted with when I returned from ten days of traveling. You can just make out the side of my little car buried under all that snow.
What you may not be able to tell is that the mound of snow piled by the plows at the end of our driveway is over four feet high.
I got home two weeks ago, and my car is still stuck there. I've been sick, and with my ruined neck and back, shoveling is rather out of the question. My husband and housemate have both been working long hours and by the time they had days off, a brief thaw, some rain, and then a deep freeze had hardened said ridge of snow into the consistency of concrete.
Fortunately I work from home.
I know that this is the price one pays for living in New England, and it's not like the Mid-Atlantic region, the other most likely place for us to live, had an easy winter. That said, at this point I'm quite ready for the winter to be over.
On the plus side, despite being built during the Nixon administration, my little car has started and driven everywhere I've needed it to. If it tackle the cold and snow, so can I.
So does anyone want to come shovel my car out for me?
Didn't think so.