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Saturday, February 13, 2010

Snow day 9

Yeah, I said earlier today I wasn’t going to do another of these. Sue me.

A neighbor says that a city salt truck rolled down Plymouth Road this morning. The main result of that — and I’m sorry to sound like an ingrate — is to have turned the snow at the intersection of Plymouth and Roselawn into mush. Soft and treacherous, but not melted, and with nowhere to go.

I know for sure that there was a salt truck, because the spinning wheels of the SUV I helped to push out of the intersection tonight deposited some salty slush in my mouth.

Kathleen’s latest ambition is that she, J.P., and I will clear Roselawn ourselves in the half block from our garage to the mushy intersections. That would give us Sunday and Monday to accomplish the task before Tuesday’s snow drops what? — another half-foot or so — on top of our efforts.

Of course, it’s possible that a city plow will materialize on Monday and make everything good, especially in light of the two unanswered messages I have sent to Councilman Curran’s office. Then again, it’s possible that most of you will be carried up in the Rapture on Monday and I will have a different set of problems to address. (What? You imagine that Anglicans are going to be in that happy number? Wake up and smell the coffins.)

Back in the mundane world, I have to clean up the dinner dishes. I made linguine with clam sauce, one of my favorites. No one else praised it, but it was consumed. Kathleen baked an excellent focaccia.

After that, the rest of the week’s laundry, in case any of us will require clean clothes past Monday.


  1. Oh, davvero che gli piacciono i pasti italiani?

    Linguini... focaccia!! Sono veramente deliziosi!!

  2. As to the Rapture...I suppose it depends upon whether you are a premillenialist or a postmillenialist. Anglicans, by definition, probably fall somewhere in the middle and will need extra time to get dressed properly before ascending.

  3. After a delicious, hot, nourishing dinner, you are sitting, warm and dry, at your internet connected computer complaining to the world that, after a record snowstorm, the city hasn't cleared your tiny street.

    For many, life is tough. For you and I not so much.