The Curse of the Snow Blowin' Mouse Surgeon

It's been snowing like a bitch outside the last few days. At work, the "Mouse Surgeon" is in charge of directing snow removal. I know, I know--why is a mouse surgeon directing snow removal? Ah, we all have our trials and tribulations and hers is to do menial things like point at snow piles and give orders. 

Mouse Surgeon announced that we all had to move our cars so the parking lot could be plowed. Okay, no problem--I mean, I am all about having a plowed parking lot. I drag my sorry ass out to my car, fire it up and roll backward into a new stall along the fence, far out of the way of the plow. 

As I'm sitting in my car contemplating the meaning of life and snowflakes, I notice that the Mouse Surgeon is all bundled up and standing behind a snow blower. It may have been a snow THROWER or a snow BLOWER--I don't know the difference, but suffice it to say it was a pretty big machine. Much bigger than the puny Mouse Surgeon. Much bigger than anything I've ever used. It's professional grade. The king of kings.

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This intrigues me.

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What IS she doing? This is a lady who does relatively nothing but work an hour a day, pushing papers, having injuries, giving orders. Mouse surgeons don't snow blow...do they? Aren't they afraid of frost-biting their precious little mouse-surgeoning hands? She does not strike me as the snow blowing type.

She's got her little peanut head all tucked into a winter cap and she's got her booties on and her mittens are securely in place. She fires up the machine and looks like she is ready for action......she begins by pushing the machine slowly up where the sidewalk. Actually, the machine is basically dragging her behind--she is hanging on for dear life.

As she goes and blows up the sidewalk.... 

....there is suddenly a god awful screeching sound...just like when I sucked the neighbor's Christmas lights into our snowblower.

Then, bizarrely enough--newspaper is flying EVERYWHERE.

This is followed by a sickening moan--a last gasp--out of the machine. 

Flakes of Newspaper swirl about, right along with the snow flakes. It is a sight to behold. 

The snow plow guy FREAKS out. He screams at the Mouse Surgeon to TURN.IT.OFF!!!!!

There is no need to turn it off, as she has OBVIOUSLY sucked something into the thing and the snowblower is no longer in working condition.

Come to find out she has sucked the entire Sunday newspaper into the snowblower and has thus not only shredded the paper but also jammed the snowblower. 

I kid you not.You can't make this stuff up. Have a visual, won't you?

I am sitting in my car HOWLING in laughter. 

This is not professional nor is it supportive but it sure is funny to me. There is shredded newspaper flying everywhere. I can see the look on her face--she doesn't immediately know what happened, she doesn't know what to do and she certainly has no idea she has just ruined (at least temporarily) this fine piece of machinery. I can tell the Mouse Surgeon has been stunned into frozen confusion. I wish you could see the paper. 

Deadpan, she turns to the truck and says to the plower driver:

"Sunday Paper." 

She points as if he doesn't know what she is talking about.

I laid down in my car so she couldn't see how hard I was laughing. After all, I am guilty of the same snow blowing crime. But, I'm no mouse surgeon and that is what makes it all that much funnier to me.

I.am.going.to.rodent.hell. I just know it.

There was no more snow blowing to be done on this day. Heck, I'm not sure there will be any more snow blowing this season. 

Forget about reading the Sunday paper. Just sayin.'