For the record, my least favorite job in the whole wide house has always been washing the dishes. I would rather clean the litter box -- clean the entire bathroom of a subway station, for that matter -- than wash a bunch of dirty pots, pans, plates and spoons.
But now, I have a new least fave. Shoveling snow.
I'm house-sitting. I'm also pet-sitting and therefore also doing repeated security checks on two other houses. And then, there's my own house.
So, the day before yesterday (or, perhaps it was the day before that) we had a nice little four-inch snowfall. On the plus side, I wasn't yet caring for the other two households of critters, so I didn't have to go out to shovel their walks. Yet.
This afternoon, though, the forecast inundation arrived. I took an hourlong nap instead of washing dishes, and, when I woke up, the dishes were still there, and the front sidewalk was missing. There was a ski slope where the steps used to lead to the porch. The car I drive was four inches taller and white, instead of cherry red (well, instead of grimy, rusty, spotty cherry red, really).
I decided to do the dishes.
I had somewhere to be, though -- a birthday party for an extended family member -- so, eventually I had to dig myself out. To make matters worse, my parents (whose house I am occupying while they are away) will be arriving back home (to quote Mom from her phone call) early tomorrow morning. For me, early is before the crack of noon. Early for the old bat and the geezer is... ummm.... I think they actually sometimes see the sun rising. Ewww.
So, anyway, rather than leave the snows on the driveway for a couple of extra days, I cleared the bulk of it away from the slope, so they will be able to unload all their gear when they arrive.
Then I went to the birthday party.
After the party (it was now 8:30 p.m) I made my way (a little later than I like) to check in on Eddie Puss, see that he had plenty of water, clean litter box, fresh kibble, and at least a half hour of cuddle time. While he ate, I shoveled his mommy's walk. I was not the warmest lap he's ever experienced, when he finished eating. He stayed there long enough to let me know it was a valiant effort, but not worthy of a passing grade.
Sigh.
Clean snow off car again. Drive car up hill, fish-tailing all the way out of the drive. Stop at the end of block-long drive, park car in drift, walk garbage can and recycling bin back to house. Walk to car. Wipe snow off all car windows again. Drive to home of Rizzo (a Boston Terrier), Stretch (ancient Siamese kitteh), and Dolce (middle-aged fluffball kitteh).
Kindly neighbor has taken a snow-blower to the main walkway all the way to the corner. I'm left groping around in a dark carport for the shovel, so I can do the porch and the walkway from porch to main sidewalk. Rizzo is barking from within.
Sidewalk cleared.
Litter boxes cleaned. Stretch gets his meds (ever try giving pills to a cat not your own? Ever try feeding Brussels sprouts to an ordinary two-year-old? The latter is easier). All get food. Rizzo gets a walk to the corner and back, and he resents the duration of time in the chill. I play a little "fetch" with him, cuddle Dolce, and console Stretch. I lock up, go out, brush snow off car.
My house. I'm not sleeping there, but I don't want to advertise that fact. Sidewalk is missing. Shovel is way the aytch at the end of the porch. Drifts of snow are deeper than my boots are high. Air is turning blue near my mouth, and not from the eerie blue tint one's lips get from too much of the chill.
Fetch shovel. Clear sidewalk and porch. Fetch mail (three days' advertising fliers, all delivered in a bunch, today, along with what appears to be an insurance statement, but I haven't opened it yet, a'cuz I ain't inclined to worry about it until after mañana). Ah, holidays! Stuff bulk mail in trash can, stuff important thing in pocket.
Back to the old folks' home. Dagnabbit, where did that sidewalk & driveway go? And, wasn't there a staircase to the porch, when I went out?
I think tonight I might be dreaming of moving to someplace mild, like Panama, or Venus.
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