Let me see the light

I'm so far down,
Away from the sun again.
I'm over this.
I'm tired of living in the dark.
Can anyone see me down here.

-- Away From the Sun, 3 Doors Down



OK.

I moved back three years ago, right before my first ever driving winter. I lived with my dad then. Any time I had a problem with snow, he came, got in my Jetta, threw the gears all around and used a lot of gas, but he got my car out of all the snowbanks I drove into. I got to follow him home in his 4WD Explorer, watching him expertly slip and slide ahead of me. I have no doubt some of his skidding was for show.

My second winter back, I lived with Joe in Carnegie HIGHlands. His two cars occupied the garage, and I'm surprised he didn't make Zoe and I occupy the garage also, but nonetheless I parked in the driveway. Up on the hill. The very windy hill. I might note that the entire time I lived with Joe, never once did Jacob ride in his cozy, garaged cars. But that's another story best laid to rest.

That year I was happy for my AAA subscription. Not so happy for all the dings Joe put in the left side of my car one day trying to chip off an inch-thick layer of ice. OFF THE WHOLE SIDE AND BACK OF THE CAR. Before I could even get in the car to warm it up.

Last winter, in my own home, I bought that high-powered salt stuff. I don't recall what it was, but as soon as it hit the snow in my driveway, it was like... it caught fire. Instant melt. On days when it snowed during the day, my friendly neighbor normally plowed the drive before I got home from work.

All this has left me with one lesson: As a Pittsburgher, I need to put on the gloves, so to speak, and tackle the snow on my property. Unless someone else volunteers to do it for me.


I threw regular old salt on my driveway tonight... and gleefully so. I strapped on a Playtex glove and dispersed a good three pounds on my asphalt.

An hour later... it's like... nothing happened. Snow is still falling, and it's covering all that salt I responsibly tossed around generously. I keep going to the window to see the progress, but there's nothing. Nothing but a nice, shiny sheen of snow filling in my footprints.

I thought for a moment that the morning sun would come out and melt it, but there hasn't been sun in ..................... weeks.

We're embarking on another winter... my fourth... and I'm still learning the ropes.

And chains. And salt boxes. And plows. And shovels. And delays.


God, it's me, Sirschy. If you let me have a delay tomorrow, I will recycle more and eat less junk food.