Remember when I posted this about the last snowstorm? I was worried because I was expecting to get home late to a big old berm at the end of my driveway. I didn't start for home until late, so I was thinking that I'd just park on the side of the road, climb over the berm, leaving it to dig until the next morning. But that didn't happen. No. No, it didn't. It didn't happen because when I got home, my driveway was beautifully clear.
So I asked the neighbor whose dog I dogsit, and who often does me kindnesses, but no, he said, it wasn't him. And I asked the neighbor with the super snowthrower across the street, and even took him cookies, but no it wasn't him. And I asked the paramedic neighbor, and no, it wasn't him. But he said he thought the new neighbor had gotten a snowthrower and had done them, so maybe it was them?
Well, today we had a bit of snow, and this afternoon, I went to clear the drive for the second time (It's WAY easier to shovel if you're shovelling 4 inches twice then 8 inches once. At least, that's my belief.) I finished mine, and saw the new neighbor out, so I walked over and yes, it was him, and the other neighbor on the side, the accountant. But the new neighbor's snowthrower had broken down in some way, so while I was there, I helped them dig out enough to get their cars in and out.
And then I headed home.
And then my other neighbor, the accountant was snowblowing, so I went to thank her. And then, a moment after I returned home, the city plow came through. So I dug out my berm.
And then I went to help my new neighbor dig his out. And when we finished his, we went to help the third neighbor who'd helped with my berm, and then he came out with his snowthrower, and we did a couple more neighbors.
And now I'm good and tuckered. But we're all dug out on the street. And we're all feeling pretty neighborly, too.