To shovel or not to shovel...Is that a question?

As I lay vision to the frozen white wasteland that what was once my cul-de-sac, I am faced with one of those tough little life challenges. Do I shovel now, or wait until the snow plow buries my driveway on his way around the bend with a berm the size of a mini van? I know, not a great thinker in the grand scheme of things, but non-the-less a decision all the same. Why are we faced with these perilous choices so early in the morning? I guess I would rather only have to shovel once, but by waiting, I am opening a whole new can of worms.

If I shovel now, I can avoid the little tire treads of ice that will eventually form if I back the car out of the driveway without shoveling. But then that means having to put the boots back on when the plow comes, which in turn means all that lacing of the laces. Such a tedious chore, for a 5 minute jaunt into the face of the blizzard. And the gloves will probably still be wet from the first time out. Putting on wet gloves is like donning Derrick Rose's socks after a basketball game. Eeww. Plus, it is still snowing, thus the accumulation continues. Sort of like watching the inbox in your cubicle. Only drier and not as cold.

But have you ever sat and waited for the plow to come? It's like watching water boil. You know that the little bubbles will surely appear at some point, but if you sit and stare, it's like they are playing hide and seek, waiting for that moment when you leave the kitchen for one nano-second to break up an argument over the game TV in the basement. (XBOX or Wii?) When you return, the little baby bubbles are now full blown grown up bubbles escaping the boiling pot of water like a lobster only wishes it could. (Do they really scream when you put them in?)

And how is it then when I am out there in that one magical moment when the plow DOES appear, that the driver still has the nerve to fly by my driveway sending out a wake of snow that reminds me of a water skier spraying the crowd of onlookers? When the wife is out there, he not only slows down, but he ACTUALLY will plow the end of the driveway and remove the impending mountain. Should I dress sexier? Or flaunt what I got in the hope that the next guy is gay? Or buy a house not on the end of a cul-de-sac?

No, I am going to stick with my tried and true plan that never (almost) fails. I wait until I hear the roar of my next door neighbors snow blower, then innocently walk out with my shovel with a look on my face that says, "HEY, fancy meeting you here? What brings you out?" As I am typing this, I can hear the distinct "Ka-Blam!" of the driver dropping his plow on the street, followed by the grating din of metal on concrete, knowing full well that when I look, the berm will be there, and the decision of "To shovel or not to shovel" has been made for me. Now I know all you city dwellers without cars are either laughing at me or scratching their head saying, "Huh?" But I'll take the suburban "Berlin Wall of Snow" over putting my lawn chairs in the street any day.