Friendly Neighbor, Snow blowing Style (#10)

The count down of blogs continues. I've decided to go out in style, featuring 16 blogs, representing 16 years of blogging. I'm sad to say that some of the posts have NOT aged well. I'm updating posts so it improves the story while preserving the madness.

I picked this particular blog because it is a fan favorite. I've posted it in one version or another before. I shall rework it to make it worthy of being in the top 16 blogs. Here's #10 in the countdown: Friendly Neighbor, Snow blowing Style.

Last night, it snowed, sleeted, rained and made these weird little ice/snow pellets, all in a frenzied combination. Mother Nature went into overdrive, leaving behind a seasonal pain in the ass kind of snow, spitting her snot onto our front stairs, resulting a sheet of solid ice on the steps and a snow-covered driveway sealed within a sheet of snotty concrete ice. With my history of slipping on the front stairs, resulting in a broken tailbone, I find myself less than amused when this type of window swoops down upon us.

As the dogs needed to go out as part of their morning ritual, safe passage is created. It's a wee bit terrifying for me, seeing as the ice-covered stairs are between me and the place of dog potty area. So, I go through the garage, grab the shovel, shovel a spot for them to pee, and penguin-walk my way toward the door, muttering as I slide toward the front door. 

Me: (muttering to self) God I hate ice....don't fall, don't fall, don't fall...where is the damned salt... mutter mutter.

The wife (who doesn't have the same terror about ice that I have): watching from through the screen door

Me: (Muttering about needing salt.)

The wife: (Muttering about my salt muttering.)

Me: "I need the salt. I'm not falling again." (Glare)

The wife: (eye roll)

Me: "Two words--broken tailbone!" (Glare)

The wife: Opens door, throws the salt container at me. 

Me: "HEY!" (I am terrified of breaking my tailbone again--I talk salting seriously!)

The wife: (Scowling as I spread what she finds to be WAY too much salt.)

I look up at the Ring doorbell, which makes me laugh. I know somewhere in the world someone is hacking our doorbell. How can they not find my banter with the wife anything but funny? It's like a having a front-row seat to a reality TV show. 

If you are wondering who might be watching our Ring doorbell video, I am confident we are being watched by foreign governments. so I always say hello to the Russians when I enter the house. I dunno. Maybe it's the Chinese. North Korea?

Boris: "They're at it again."

Vladimir: "What is wrong with that one?"

Boris: "Eh. Wimpy America looks scared of ice on stairs."

Vladimir: "Pass me the vodka. This is gonna be good."

Boris: I'm calling Chen in China. He'll love this."

The dogs have peed. The salt is in place. Time to snow blow.

Our snowblower is a serious machine. It's giant. It's heavy. It's the real deal. Unfortunately for wimpy old me, I almost get a hernia trying to operate it--I just don't have any upper body strength. I'm a wimpy thing. It may be automatic-driven but you still have to push it, especially when it comes to ice covered snow, and it's super heavy. Hell, I can barely push it on dry pavement.

I can't believe the wife even allows me to snow blow, considering the great 1998 snow-blowing incident. It's a great story of which I'm asked to tell now and again. I daresay this is the perfect time to recall the debacle. So, without further ado, I recall the story for your enjoyment.....

It's snowing.
It's 1998.
It's the wife’s fault. 

Not the snow. 

The incident.

It's snowing. I'm giddy because we have a brand new snowblower. I've been waiting to use it. I'm all smiles about this snow. But, before I say more about this, I must speak of being an unfriendly neighbor.

The wife has always accused me as being “unfriendly neighbor.” This title was bestowed upon me because I supposedly don't spend much time interacting with any of our neighbors. She claims I don't even wave to them, but that's not true...I half-wave when in view of neighbors. I just don't stop and yip or engage them any further. (Okay, so that might be a LITTLE unfriendly but it's not like I'm giving anyone “the finger” or lighting poop-in-a-bag on the porch or anything.) I agree I'm not half as friendly as the wife is; she is always visiting or talking or discussing gardening—whatever. I'm in the house having a cool beverage while she is yipping to neighbors. It seems better that way.

As I ALWAYS listen to the wife, I finally take her words to heart. On this very, very, very snowy evening, I decide to be FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR.

The wife purchased a new snow blower and thus I am very excited to see the snow--this means I can use the new machine. I am SO about snow blowers. I am in winter bliss as I plow up and down the driveway. 

Once done, I look up and down our street. Hmm. No one else is snow blowing yet and the snow is piling up...

I decide that it would indeed qualify me for friendly neighbor status if I clear a few driveways for our nearest neighbors.

I plow the neighbor to the north’s driveway.
I plow the neighbor across the street driveway.
I plow the neighbor to the south’s driveway. 

That seems friendly enough. 

I'm covered in snow and sweating like a pig, so I call it a day. After all, there is only so much friendly one can take in one outing.

Then, I think I should do one…more….driveway—the neighbor kitty-corner from us. They're a young couple and I know they don’t have a snowblower. What’s one more driveway? So, I push the snow blower across the street and give one last round of Friendly Neighbor snow blowing….

I should have stopped.

I push the snowblower right down the middle of their driveway, heading from the street to the garage. 

I’m not kidding—right down the middle—

not to the left,

not to the right—

Right.
Down.
The.
Middle. 

I’m halfway up the driveway when there is this bloodcurdling SCRREEEEECH....

....the tree to the right SNAPS down toward the ground....

....the tree SNAPS right back up.....

....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the tree....

.....the snow blower SCREAMS like it’s been hit by a truck....

....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the garage gutter.

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ARE RIPPING OFF THE GARAGE GUTTERS.... 
BAM BAM BAM BAM LIKE A MACHINE GUN.

The brand new snowblower comes to a GRINDING halt.

Shit. All there is...is silence.

Total silence. 

Unbeknownst to me our neighbors has a large orange extension cord running down the MIDDLE OF THE DRIVEWAY. Now, why anyone would have an extension cord in the middle of the driveway, I do not know, but I DO know that this cord is attached to the Christmas lights on the garage and to the Christmas lights on that poor little tree that bent in half as the lights ripped off of it. 

I couldn’t see their extension cord because it is under a foot of snow.

There I stand in the partially-plowed driveway, extension cord and Christmas lights sucked into the snow blower that no longer works. These lights, of course, are not the cheapy-kind most people use these days. Oh no, these are the old-fashioned big lights, probably from their grandparents as a gift...the expensive kind you can’t buy anymore. 

The gutter is hanging slightly off the garage. The lights, of course, are off and no longer softly glowing in the falling snow. 

How I wasn’t killed by electrocution, I’ll never know.

Since it sounded like a truck hit the house when this all happened, the neighbors come running out (in their bare feet, I might add). What could I do but say….

….”Uhhhhhh, hi, I’m your neighbor.”

Piss on this friendly neighbor shit! This sucks. Why the hell did I think being a friendly neighbor was a good idea? 

This is the wife's fault!

It takes the neighbor guy about thirty minutes to get the various cords out of the snow blower. 

Yes, he is the one who pulled the cords out. I just stand there. I don't know what to say. I finally mutter a few words about trying to be a good neighbor but I can tell he wants to hear NOTHING of which I might have to say.

No, their driveway never got plowed.
No, their Christmas lights weren't salvageable.
No, their gutter never got put back into place.
No, the neighbors didn't have friendly neighbor banter with me.
Yes, I felt like a complete moron....

...At least the tree had snapped back to an upright position and I hadn't been electrocuted...right?

I sadly and slowly push the still-jammed snow blower back across the street and park it in the garage, not knowing if I have destroyed the new machine in addition to destroying the neighbor’s holiday decorations. I want to vomit. I dread telling the wife. It is going to be awful telling the wife about ruining the brand new snowblower. 

The walk of shame has to commence. 

I'm not sure which part the wife finds worse: ruining a brand new snowblower, alienating the neighbors or destroying vintage Christmas lights. She too is rather silent but her stare said all I need to hear. 

Thankfully, the snow blower is okay....no worse for the wear... but, those neighbors moved in the spring.

So much for friendly neighbor crap.

For the record, I never replaced their Christmas lights because I couldn't find the type they had. But, I did buy them a new kick-ass, heavy-duty extension cord. That has to count for something. I don't recall what happened with the gutter but I think it was fixed before they moved..... I didn't exactly go over there and ever talk to them....

So, here I am. Salt on the steps. It's snowing. It's 6 AM. The streets are silent. I have the new snowblower in the driveway. No one has shoveled or cleared their driveways yet. This new snowblower is made for the task. I can redeem myself. I cab try one more time to be a friendly neighbor....

...like I said, piss on that. I prefer gutters remain attached to houses and that the new snowblower remain in tact. I'd rather the Russians watch me slip on ice than destroy neighbor property. I take my wimpy self outside and I do the best I can, in OUR driveway and our driveway only. 

I prefer to be retain my unfriendly neighbor status. Friendly neighbor status is WAY over-rated. I leave that to the wife. Half-waves will suffice for me. Half-waves and back into the house I go.

I can't snow blow for others. I have PTSDD: Post Traumatic Snowblowing Disaster Disorder. I have  flashbacks. I don't need any more. 

Snow blow your own damn driveway. Love, your unfriendly neighbor.

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