About two weeks ago my neighbor, who loves snowstorms and her snow blower as much as I do, said she was going to the Caribbean this week and asked if I would do her sidewalk in the unlikely event that it were to snow. I imagine her now, sitting by the pool, wishing she were here (she and I are an anomaly, I realize).
They’re saying 8 to 12 inches. This means I not only have to do her sidewalk, but probably her (long) driveway so her husband, who for some reason chose no poolside and who drives into Philadelphia to work, can get out. I’ll start with my own (long) driveway, making my way down to my own sidewalk, which toward the end plunges precipitously over some tree roots, hurling people, wheelchairs, and snow blowers into my other neighbor’s driveway.
There’s another neighbor’s house in between Tam’s at-least-very-flat sidewalk and mine, and these neighbors have all kinds of barricades abutting and sometimes in the middle of their sidewalk, like pink flamingos (not kidding) and discarded umbrellas and (un)decorative rocks. And they rarely shovel, so they’re in for a treat this storm as I make my way to Tam’s.
Oh well, couldn’t resist – I googled it: it’s Janus, the Roman god of beginnings and endings, who gave January its name. Welcome, Janus!