Snow Day

Looks like a good day to paint that office floor. Got the hammer, the can opener, the paint, the tape. Woohoo! I'll just trot out to the garden shed and get the roller and tray. Well, being as how it's been snowing for some time, and blowing. For some time.... on with the ski pants, the tall boots, the winter coat, and the work mitts. And away we go with the shovel. And the dog. First, shovel around the corner directly below the porch steps. Remind the dog he's not allowed on the road. Six times. Obviously it's gonna be too time consuming to shovel all the way to the shed, so plod thru 18" of snow (don't slip on the ice!) to the shed. Shovel enough snow away to get the door open. The drifts are discouraging the dog from going next door. With a few reminders. Search for the tools. Shit. Here's where one recalls that one reorganized the shed 3 months ago. No tray. No roller. Fine. Plod thru drifts, over ice, and along path to the workshop. The doorway of which has drifted in very thoroughly. Resist shovelling the entire path. Shovel only a 24" square, enabling dog and self to enter shop. No bloody tray. No bloody roller. Push against snow AND wind (against which the shovel makes a wonderful sail) (if you're in the mood for sailing at this moment), across ice, thru drifts, call dog, back into the house. Remove all clothing, now assuring self that tray and roller are in the basement. Search basement. Thoroughly. Shit. Back on with the clothes. Dog is exceedingly joyful. Master is not. Back out to the shop. Nothing. Revisit shed. Nothing. Throw down the shovel, while resisting throwing down oneself and howling. Tramp thru drifts, across ice, into the house, re-search basement while retaining snowy clothing. Stomp upstairs, wrench keys from hook, resist pleading eyes of dog, and drive (on completely iced roads thru blowing snow) to the hardware store. After sliding across the ice rink which was once a parking lot, curiously vehicle free, one notices the closed sign........ Yes. One knew a fresh stat. holiday had been invented. The ticker tape of swear words that passed thru the mind of this writer shall not be recorded. One accepts(albeit cheerlessly) that the hardware store people are having a wonderful day at home, away from irritated customers. Resist with extreme difficulty and admirable self-control the urge to pull into the liquor store. Which is likely closed anyway. After spinning the tires up the hill, plowing thru the drift at the end of the road, and observing the snow-piled entrance to the drive, this writer parks elsewhere. Plods thru the drifts and over the ice to the house, where the dog greets the writer merrily. Blithely. And the writer paints the floor with a brush. Tomorrow this writer is definitely going to the liquor store AND the hardware. So there.