Jill's Journal: There are those days when ...
As I sit here and reflect on the past few days, I shake my head and smile. Probably like many of you, there are days, sometimes weeks, that will make you do that. This happened to be one of those weeks.
My week started with “snow angels,” but not the kind where you drop yourself into freshly-fallen snow like the white stuff that fell last week. The “snow angels” I’m referring to have unexpectedly been clearing off my driveway and sidewalks. On Monday, I came home to my neighbors, Timmy and Clint, who were unexpectedly well into clearing the snow. So, I grabbed the shovel and helped finish the job, and paid it forward by clearing snow from my neighbor’s driveway.
The next day, I earmarked some time for snow removal once again before heading to the Valley Springs City Commission meeting. Lo and behold, much to my surprise, the deed had already been done. I’m assuming it’s the fella I lined up earlier, but I have yet to receive a pay request.
Moving onto day three, as you know, Mother Nature dotted the landscape with yet another couple of inches, and once again, it was necessary to push the shovel across the driveway. Although I’m thankful for the dry, fluffy stuff we’ve been receiving, I have to admit that I’ve already grown tired of the shovel-pushing I’ve had to endure thus far.
And from what the weatherman is forecasting, it looks like we all need to keep the shovel close and the snow blower tuned up.
Speaking of snow, I learned quickly that my Buick – equipped with AWD – doesn’t plow through snow as I envisioned. Just as I have when the roads were clear of snow, I drove the Buick up to the row of mailboxes, plucked out what was tucked inside, and hit the gas to go.
As you may have guessed, I had the will to go, the Buick, unfortunately, did not.
Miraculously so, a young man who happened to be cruising by at the time, stopped and offered his muscle.
I have no idea who he is, so I’m tagging him as a “snow angel,” too.
Moving indoors, I found myself in a conundrum in the toilet paper aisle last week, where, for whatever reason, my preferred tushy tissue was nowhere to be found on the shelves. I well recall during the pandemic how difficult toilet paper was to come by. In fact, I still have a four-pack of a generic brand in the closet that’s reserved for those “just in case I run out of TP” occasions.
I must confess that I’m not a coffee snob and unfortunately, wine doesn’t agree with me, but when it comes to TP, I do have a preference. I grew up with another name brand tissue on the roll and it wasn’t until I was living on my own that I switched brands. No disrespect to the TP that brought Mr. Whiffle and crazy ladies “squeezing the Charmin” into our living rooms for decades, I made the switch because it left “dingle berries” – for lack of better terminology – ‘be-hind’ (pun intended).
Thank goodness for snow angels and the ability to even find TP on the shelves these days.
Both make me smile.
