Maybe I waxed nostalgic about the joy of shoveling snow too soon. Saturday saw mother nature dump about a foot of snow on us, after already blessing us with about six inches earlier in the week. This morning I bundled up, battled a cough and cold, and started shoveling.
It damn near killed me.
I'm out of shoveling shape. I was cursing myself the whole time for not buying my father's snow blower from the estate.
But as Hannibal said, "That which does not kill me, makes me stronger." I survived and felt a sense of accomplishment at having shoveled the backyard out
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