Dear Person with the Unshoveled Sidewalk

You.

Have.

Annoyed.

Me.

Of course, I am not in the best frame of mind these days. . . . largely because of the 6 to 10 inches of crap currently blanketing our fair city. Each time someone says, "Isn't the snow pretty?" I have to, as my friend sporter says, throw up just a little in my mouth.

The reality is this: Snow is pretty for about 5 seconds. Then it turns into bileous, white, festering piles of frozen precipitation that have been carefully engineered to make My Life a Living Hell. Period.

I rest my case.

Person with the Unshoveled Sidewalk, your woeful lack of attention to all things snow-clearing is not helping matters. You see, I walk a dog every morning. And every morning, I have to navigate your crappy sidewalk -- and clamber over the uncleared berms at your corner -- because you've spent the weekend wedged in your Barco-lounger, tossing back Budweisers and watching whatever people who don't shovel their sidewalks watch on TV.

Sorry.

A 50-something-year-old woman shouldn't have to clamber over anything.

Oh, sorry again. Did I disturb you?

Please, don't bother to get up. And, DO have another handful of Cheetos.

(I so can't believe you're not sharing. I LOVE Cheetos.) 

I'm coming, Ben, I'm coming.
I think

Okay, okay. So maybe you're elderly or infirmed. In that case, I hope a neighbor might lend a helping hand or you know of kid who'd like earn a little of that green stuff.

Maybe you're under doctor's orders not to lift anything heavier than, say,  a Budweiser can and/or handful of Cheetos 1 pound. 

Maybe you suffer from Snow Shovelers' Attention Deficit Disorder like this property owner. 

Snow Shovelers' ADD.
Get help.
Get help today.

I feel your pain.


Because, it IS, really, all about me.


Because, and I know this may come as a surprise. . .

I am NOT Sir Edmund Hillary nor National Velvet. I do not like to go up and over things.

Nor am I Robert Peary or Roald Amundsen. I do not rock out exploring vast, frigid arctic wastelands -- otherwise known as your uncleared sidewalk.

So, lazy-ass dear Person with the Unshoveled Sidewalk, please dust off that snow shovel or rev up the snowblower currently languishing in your garage, and get to work. The Queen and Supreme Goddess has spoken.

This is what I'm talkin' about, baby.
Two blocks.
Check. It. Out.

And you know what that means.

You do?

Whoa. Could you clue me in later? After you've taken care of that sidewalk?