It’s not a regular post day, but it’s snowing, and I’ve got nothing better to do.
As documented in my post of November 21, we bought snow tires this year for the first time ever. Since it had already snowed before Halloween, this seemed like a pretty good investment.
It hasn’t snowed since. Until today.
So today is our first opportunity to see how our snow removal service works. We have arranged this service through our landscaper, who said he would come “every six inches” during a snow storm to plow the driveway and shovel the front walk.
Well, it’s noon, and it’s been snowing all morning. It’s not a blizzard or anything; the storm doesn’t really seem to have its heart in it. It’s like, “here it is, late January, and I haven’t snowed yet. I gotta do something.”
Well, okay, we have nowhere in particular to go, and it’s kind of pretty out, and it’s the really lightweight, fluffy, powdery kind of snow, and our dog Toby is enjoying going outside and dipping his nose as he walks, leaving behind the tracks of some weird, 5-legged creature.
But the snow is building up, and how do we know when it gets to six inches? Am I supposed to go out and stick a ruler in the snow and then call the guy? Does he come when it’s six inches where he is or six inches where I am? What if the snow stops suddenly after dropping 5.98 inches?
And the most important question of all: if I go out and shovel the walk and the driveway, will he show up exactly two minutes later?
So I just called the landscaper/snowplow person who advised me that, for these half-hearted kind of snows, they wait until it’s over and then come. “I’m looking at the radar right now,” he said. “And it’s winding down. We’ll definitely be there this afternoon.”
Well, on one hand, it’s great that my snowplow/landscape guy has his own radar, because that could come in handy if North Stamford ever comes under aerial attack. On the other hand, if we did have to go somewhere today, waiting until the snow stops wouldn’t cut it.
On the third hand, at our old condo development in Westchester, the guys used to plow continually, even in the middle of the night (especially, it seemed, in the middle of the night), and they used to toss gallons of salt all over the place to melt ice, even when it was 50 degrees, and I hated the noise the plow made and the mess the salt made.
You know what? There’s just no making me happy!
See you soon.