Snow+Out of Shape Lymie Body+Snow Shovel=Call an EMT(emergency massage therapist)

"Is this all of it?"

Apparently, New England weather reporters are so bored out of their minds with our mild winter, highly jealous of their mid-Atlantic counterparts who have mega snow to play with, that they’re making up weather. I should have know that the report was all hype, because I simply could not match the dire predictions for our area with what my eyeballs saw on radar.

Being the good cruising sailor that I am, always prepared for a thrashing from Mother Nature, I readied the house where I’m pet sitting for friends. I filled containers with water, set out candles and flashlights, cranked up a nice fire in the wood stove, and covered the holes in the roof with a tarp. I got the cat dressed in his little boots, sending him out to the top of the driveway with a bucket of salt. I made sure there was plenty of licorice tea and yogurt raisins on hand. Just as the snow began to fall, I took the dogs for a long romp in our favorite hiking spot. After all, who needs wild animals loose in the house in the middle of storm?

I left my own home in the hands of my housemates.
They have people who shovel for them.
I have lymes.

Yesterday afternoon, gearing up mentally and physically, I ventured out armed with a snow removal device, implementing my plan to shovel each time the snow reached four inches, or until I keeled over, whichever came first. Reaching the summit of the driveway, I found myself still standing, utterly stoked. I did it! For the first time in seven months, my mind overturned the conviction that the battle would never be won against the legions of nasty little lymie creatures munching away at me, believing that there would always be a handful of rebels hiding out, making sneak attacks when no one was looking, but now, there's hope that I can soon say “I had lymes.” Past tense.

Soaking wet, I staggered back inside to wait for the next four inches of snow to fall, so I could go out to shovel again. When it got dark, and meteorologists were still threatening us with heavy, heavy snow, I made sure the car was angled correctly to shine headlights up the drive so I could see to shovel. Finally, I let the dogs out into the two inches of fresh snow that had fallen in the last eight hours, and then went to bed.

All you poor souls buried alive just south of here, don’t hate us because we’re not inundated. After all, we spent last winter encrusted in ice while you all romped through unscathed. This year, it’s just your turn to get our snow. Besides, winter ain’t over yet. Mother Nature is still in charge, and could give us a stupendous spanking at any moment she chooses.