When Hell Freezes Over...

So, thanks to my new and improved outlook on caffeine, I'm back on track. Feels pretty good. Like I should dance, or something. But whoa, not so fast...before I start getting all positive, think about the past few days. Weeks. Think about the amount of energy I've used to shovel myself out of the snow and to the edge of hell. To the precipice of insanity. The brink of mindlessness. The abyss...the verge...bah, you know what I mean.

March in Canada. Those three words spark horror into everyone who lives north of 45 degrees latitude. The sheer volume of snow this year has been mindboggling. People are cursing. And swearing, sobbing, vehemently shaking their fists, and bawling tortured tirades against the snow Gods. At least we're not bored. We don't have the time. The snowfall has been overwhelming, and the city keeps posting No Parking signs for the snow removal teams who don't even show up. Just when you think you have yourself a nice cozy parking spot, you gotta find another, sucker, cuz here comes the damn snowplows. Complicating things is the fact that this is a densely populated area, so any available parking spots disappear faster than M&M's at a PMS party.

I saw one poor guy trying to carve himself a nice spot into an 8 foot snowbank across the street from my house. The snow had been placed there by the local plow, a guy we neighbours collectively hire to dig out our lanes and plow our private parking areas. It was packed pretty solid. About halfway thru, he lost it and started smashing his shovel maniacally into the solidified snow until it literally broke in half. Poor, poor bastard. He got back to his car and drove off, defeated. I removed the battered and broken shovel, jumped into his spot and kept digging. Albeit a tad guiltily. But hey, the job was half done, I'm not digging myself a whole new pit when this one was sitting there.

I do feel badly for the snowplow guys, though. I've heard they've been overworked to the point of exhaustion. Buck up, boys. Summers coming, so we can all sit around the outdoor patios down on St Denis street, ogle each other, and drink excellent microbrewed beer while griping about the heat and humidity :)

In the meantime, it's snowing again. Seriously, I finally understand why people go south to Florida when they get old. Shoveling this crap when you're 70 will kill you. And no one wants to die shaking their fists at God.