I've asked myself (often out loud in a fit of rage while fighting a losing battle with the shovel), "why did we leave Georgia??!!??" In Georgia, the words "snow blower" are profanity, not something you should purchase at Lowe's to add to the rock salt, shovel, and plow that are now living peacefully next to your SUV. Unfortunately, my garage is short of both a plow and a snow blower. But not to worry, I can already envision yet another trip to Lowe's where we will spend entirely too much money (thus giving me another round of palpitations) on a snow blower, so we can join the masses of yankees.
all of our neighbors are old, and thus, they they take care of each other... as in: "oh, you were there for the black plague, too? Fantastic! Let's be friends, and I'll come over with my lovely snow plow and get your drive way ship shape in no time." And then we move in... and they say: "look at those young little whippersnappers, with their shovels. Fools. Let's pretend like we don't see them sweating in this cold while trying frantically to shovel these mounds of snow. ba-ha-ha-ha. Juveniles!"
What do you do when you are snowed in, and there does not appear to be an end in sight? Blog. Log massive amounts of time on Facebook. Nap. Eat junk foot. Cry, while remembering the heat and sunshine of lovely Savannah. Look out the window and cringe. Fret that you'll never ever see green grass again. Realize that the joke about milk and bread and toilet paper really isn't a joke after all. Pretend you really wanted to put on 4 layers of clothes to shift piles of snow around. Drink hot chocolate. Convince yourself that spring will never come. Eat more junk food. Make babies. Nap more. Pray that you'll survive and won't be forced to eat your spouse like that creepy movie.
‘Cause if the birds and the flowers survive then I’ll make it okay
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