Relative Something

In regions where winter means shoveling snow, there are some unwritten rules that are almost sacred. Granted, I can be a little particular about clearing my driveway and the shovels I choose, but I am certainly not the only one that tries to shovel the snow off the driveway before any car tires pack down tracks.

We received our first truly shovel-worthy snowfall of the season Saturday. I first noticed it late in the day, when I went out to get the mail. At that time, it had already covered everything with enough depth that I knew I would need to shovel. With that in mind, being such a big fan of shoveling virgin snow off the driveway, I purposefully chose to walk a path to the mailbox that followed the very edge of the pavement.

Later, on my way to bed for the night, I peeked out the front door to check on the amount accumulating and discovered my driveway had been violated! Someone had the nerve to pull into my yet-to-be-shoveled driveway in order to turn around. Who would do such a thing!?

On Sunday, as I was clearing the snow from the drive, I decided to imagine the possibility that it was someone in a dire emergency, maybe even a police car, that needed to make that maneuver, in which case, I would be more than happy to suffer the inconvenience.

I had a chance to practice that mental exercise over and over, as the blade of the shovel repeatedly got stuck on the tracks with each pass I struggled to make.