It snows here. It snows the way it used to snow during my childhood. No, wait. It snows the way I remember that it snowed during my childhood, and like all things having to do with childhood, the good and the not-so, there tends to be mild to outrageous exaggeration. But it really snows here like that, all exaggerated and all.
It snows so much here that it has become the motive behind a lot of successful small businesses, such as Vintage Snow Removal Services, aka shoveling. Since we are at the age where a snowstorm can kill us, strike us down with a massive coronary, or chew our fingers off while using a snow-blower, or the deadly combination of old-person-type driving, bad eyesight and slippery roads, we must be crazy if we don't take advantage of these enthusiastic entrepreneurs who walk up to your door at 6:00 am, shovel in hand. Right?
Now, this may not seem unreasonable, this knocking on the door early on a Winter morning, but I am not really ready to accept visitors at this hour. If I am out of bed, my hair and face did not get the memo yet, and really? I have my reputation to consider. But we have a porch, you see, and porches say "C'mon over and visit anytime." Now usually I am pretty sneaky about scoping out the whole unannounced visitor situation. There is one window in the house that is pretty camouflaged and makes it easy for me to size up the situation and usually choose to ignore the visitor until he/she goes away.
You see? This, my friends, is why there are so many forms of communication these days - because standing outside a house and waiting for the door to open is only for relentless cats that remember that you once gave them a treat and now you are committed to this ritual for the rest of your living days. Someone who is not feline and really wants to see you should just call or email or text as all these forms of communication are easily ignored, and you don't have to put on a hat and boots to do your marketing.
Anyway, for some reason I answered the door, because I can't be trusted to make good decisions before 10:00 am. There was a young man there (young for me now is anyone under the age of 50) with thermal/waterproof everything on, holding a shovel. He said and I quote:
"Do you want me to shovel you out?"
Ok. You really had to be there for this, but it was delivered in a young Richard Gere American Gigolo way, although he did not physically resemble him at all. It was all about the attitude. And when I just stared (I think - but again it was barely 9:30) he laughed, as if it came out wrong, or as if it was a joke which I'm sure it did or was because if you could have seen what I looked like, you would understand that I would never have been able to pay him enough to "shovel me out" whatever that means really.
So I did what any self-respecting empowered Gloria Steinem would do. I told him to (yeah, damn right I told him, not asked him) to wait until I asked my husband. And he, having no problem with morning visitors or appearances took care of the whole thing the easiest way possible. Cash.