Last year we had 36 inches of snow. Yesterday we had 14. In either case, I need a plow. My truck's belly pan sits about 15 inches off the ground, but when you get snow gunk underneath it, it drags about six inches, leaving a large snail trail on the ground.

The first year I lived here, I had no idea that shoveling the snow is not a fun pastime. It is an Advil moment. My imaginary boyfriend is of absolutely no help. Men.

As you know, the happening place in my town is the hardware store. So I dragged myself over there and asked if anyone knew someone with a plow. I'll be over at lunch, he said.

I overpaid my snow angel, and being the god-fearing man he is, he didn't want to take it.  I explained that I just wanted to be on his list. And forever more I have had a clear driveway. The gravel may be in the rose beds, but there you have it.