This morning as I was walking down the driveway to get the mail, I could hear birds singing, the sun was shining down on the top of my very reflective skull, and I made the mistake of looking over at the lawn. I'm not sure why, but I still have about the biggest snow pile on my entire street.


Look at it!! It's still a solid four feet high. Part of me is kind of embarrassed. Though, I'm not sure why. Maybe it doesn't sit well with my masculinity. Maybe I'm just mad all my other neighbors seem to have a clear yard. There was even one guy running a leaf blower already. Granted, he's the neighborhood show-off. But if I wanna blow any leaves off my lawn, it's going to be with a snow blower.

My back yard gets a lot more sun, so that's already looking more spring-like. But my front yard looks like a secret base on the ice planet, Hoth. Life is never fair, but having to look at a mammoth pile of snow every time I leave or come back to the house makes me die inside a little bit.

Maybe I'll drag out the snowblower this weekend if these crazy 60+ degree temps hit us, and blow that crunchy white bull$@%& right into the street where it will finally melt away. Or...I could just sit on my couch and drink a beer and watch the snow die a slow painful death in the grass.

Huh. Apparently, I really hate snow.

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