So, after work this morning, I drove an hour through the wind and snow and finally made it into my driveway (which I still refuse to shovel until I can't actually get the car into it), and had to take the dog for her morning excursion.
Four-Tenths of a mile and five arms-windmilling slides through the streets later, I finally edged my way up my snow and ice encrusted front steps, clearing them somewhat as I went.
By the time I left for work eight hours later, they were again even more snow covered and still ice encrusted, though not so much, as I cleared them with my behind as I fell then slid all the way down.
I drove all the way to work sitting in a puddle of my own failure to remain upright.
When I spoke with my wife from work a little while later, I opined that it would be really cool if she could find two bored kids to find two nice snow shovels and maybe clear the front part of the driveway. And if not, then at least make the steps less snow covered and ice encrusted.
I wouldn't bet a nickle that it will be done when I get home. I'll get to fall back up the steps before falling back down them to take the dog for the walk she demands every time I get home, rain, shine, snow, sleet, hail, smog.
And all that in temperatures that will be somewhere south of zero and winds of between 25 and 30 mph.
Or, as my dad would call it when I was young, "Time for [me] to get out there and get that driveway cleared." And I wasn't even bored, just available. AND he would get me up an hour earlier than normal just to clear the driveway and sidewalk so he could get in his car and drive to work. Even on days when school was cancelle, which it rarely was because our parents either didn't care as much about us, or because they knew pain builds character. And intense pain makes less wimpy brats.
Oh well, I take comfort in the fact that, no matter what my lot in life, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
UPDATE: While the driveway remained essentially unshoveled (my daughter did about six square feet in a couple places), my wife managed to scrape the top layer off the snow on the steps, which at least left a nice, packed-down layer to walk on, rather than the lumped mounds that dropped me. So, 'E' for effort. You should have bet that nickel.