Hashtag Just Shoot Me

When you live in Maine you need a plow guy. We got here four winters ago and all the good ones were taken, so we had to take what was left. Today I needed my plow guy to show up, just like all the other good plow guys who showed up at all the neighboring houses, since it snowed all day yesterday and dumped a lot of new stuff on the driveways. But our guy, the bad one, did not show up. And so our driveway was impassable.

This story gets more boring, so quit now if you have something else to do. Anyway, I needed cat food and coffee, two things you cannot live without in a snowstorm, and we've got another one coming tonight, so it was imperative that I get out while the sun was shining. It was touch and go, but I managed. Still, after doing my errands, I couldn't get back in. Trapped in the deep snow and the big hump at the end of the driveway, my spinning wheels just made it worse. With no choice, I got out and shoveled, disturbing my already broken and until-today mending ribs in the process. But I did it.

Once inside my home, weeping as usual, I called the plow guy whose name I have not wanted to utter but it's Vince. First off, he didn't know who I was, a bad sign in a plow guy in the middle of a snowy February, especially when you've been sending him regular checks with your signature since November. I gave him the address, adding, "You know, the people who pity-hired you to paint the exterior of our house two years ago? The beige one that's peeling already?"

Putting two and two together, Vince said, "Oh right, so do you want me to come over?"
"Uh, well, yeah, it snowed a lot yesterday, did you notice?"
"My truck caught fire last week so I'll have to borrow one from a friend."
"Okay, so are you not plowing anymore?"
"No, I am, but I have to borrow a truck."
"Okay, do that."