And then it stopped snowing

It was like the Great Flood up in here.  Only instead of Noah, it was me, and it was more like 6 days instead of 40, and I really needed a sled with some huskies or a monster truck with studded tires instead of an ark.  I really thought it would never stop snowing.  But sometime in the middle of the night, it stopped.

The past few days have been some serious Little House on the Prairie kind of business.  On Tuesday, I literally walked uphill in the snow 3/4 of a mile to work.  Wednesday we had some subzero temperatures, and Thursday I didn't leave my house once.  Just cooked and baked my little heart out and then ate until I could eat no more.  But then Friday, it was back to the grind, except I really thought I would need to tie one end of a rope to my front door and the other around my waist in case I lost my way or was blown into a snow drift. 

The streets are only nominally plowed, and some sidewalks have not been shoveled at all.  This makes driving a car with regular tires impossible, and causes short walks to become long, arduous slogs through snow of consistencies varying between wet cement and dry sand.  Seriously, what is this?  In the rest of the civilized world, plowing means scraping all the snow off the street and then liberally salting the roads so every incapable idiot can get where they need to go.

What is this incapable idiot to do when she needs groceries??  You may say, oh honey, you are dumb, you work in a grocery store.  To that I say, touche.  But I prefer to do my weekly marketing in one fell swoop.  It is frustrating to have to limit my purchases to what I can comfortably carry (in bags) in two hands and possibly on my back.

I've toyed with the idea of harnessing our cat to a little sled and training him to haul the groceries.  My husband thinks this is impractical, and he may be right.  I mean, strength issues aside, this cat can't understand the simplest of commands.  I've been trying for about 5 months to teach him that he isn't supposed to eat my spider plants, and he still hasn't mastered "no."  "Mush" is probably beyond his grasp.  Actually, anything beyond eating, finding the litter box, cuddling, and purring at everything are beyond his grasp, but this fat little toadstool needs to earn his keep somehow, so it might be worth a try.

At any rate, it's starting to feel like The Shining.  If I see any little boys on tricycles in my upstairs hallway, I may cut off an arm just so I can be MedEvac'ed out of here.