Shovel

Today, I stood on the front porch with a heavy metal shovel and worked to remove the ice/slush mixture that I have been slipping on every morning for a week.

The work looked like it would be easy. It warmed up today; it was sunny. What had been ice this morning appeared to be malleable slush, something I could kick away with my shoe.

This was not the case. I tried first with an umbrella. Yes, an umbrella with a metal tip. I used the metal tip to poke holes in the ice, thinking I could wedge off large pieces at a time. No.

I took to the garage for some real man tools. I found the shovel, scrapey metal, and dragged it to the front stoop. Cars drove up our block and stared at the little girl in the long red coat, hacking at her stoop with an earth-moving shovel.

I figured the shovel couldn't look as badly as the umbrella had looked, and continued my quest for a safe walk. I hacked and pushed and manipulated the slushy, rock-bottomed material until my back started to sing a little. Finally, I found its breaking point. I removed the large pieces and returned the shovel to the garage. Tomorrow morning, when I leave in my long red coat, my path will be clear - no matter how much crap I'm lugging to the car.