Thanksgiving Day was overcast but a typical fall day. I met up with my friend, Rosie, and we took a mesmerizing stroll through a wetland reserve in Bennington. I got to try out my new app that identifies plants - watercress! (none of which is shown...)
No pussy-footing about this winter. BAM! From zero to 8 inches overnight. There was a lot of tut-tutting and tsk-tsking, as I had to locate boots, gloves and winter coat. I did have the presence of mind to haul out the snow shovel. Having apparently morphed into a frugal old lady, I did toy with the idea that I would shovel out my driveway by hand. That was until I viewed the Hoover Dam of snow piled up at the end of the drive by the town's snow plow. I am now, officially, a frugal, old, kvetching, curmudgeonly old lady.
The snow plow guy was called and I did a half-hearted job shoveling pathways until I realized that I had to reach the driveway in order to pay the plow guy. There were many breaks. There was more than one thought about apartment living in the south.
Job done(ish). We hunkered in for the night. This morning, sticking my nose out from underneath my self-made weighted blanket (fleece sheets+fleece blanket+down blanket+down comforter) I immediately got frostbite. After shivering into robe and slippers and re-covering dogs, I found that the furnace (just serviced this past Tuesday) was not on. Nor would it turn on. A call to the furnace guy got me their new emergency set up consisting of some unfortunate guy who asked me a hundred questions - most of which were beside the point. When he requested my email address, I snapped. "No way, sonny! You have no business with my email address! I will not have you sending me spam and promotions that I do not want or need!" There was a pause. "Okay, ma'am (curmudgeon). It is not mandatory. A technician will contact you shortly." I harumphed and went to get wool socks.
An hour later, with no call from the technician, I was working myself up for another telephone tirade when the dog alarm went off. It was pitch black and the fleece curtains were drawn. I shuffled to the window and could make out a small, white sedan in the driveway. WTH?! Gripping my robe against the cold, I opened the door and saw a dark figure trudging up the path, holding what looked like a pan. The figure said "Shelly?" I said, NO. I am NOT Shelly and who the heck are you? What he had actually said was, "Chilly?" It was the son of the local fuel/furnace guy who had serviced the furnace earlier. Sheesh. An old lady with bed-head hair and eyeglasses askew, surrounded by yapping dogs. I can only imagine.
Wonder what I will morph into next - Pippi Longstocking's grandmother?
|Peanut takes the Oreo sleeping position.|
P.S. I was in such a snit that I forgot to add that he did - finally - fix the furnace. In an effort to make nice after my crusty beginning, I gave him a cup of coffee. I always forget that my coffee is S.T.R.O.N.G. I swear his hair was standing on end when he left. Probably thought I was trying to poison him.