Don't get me wrong: I always want a boyfriend. Aside from the obvious, I miss the companionship, the curling up on the couch to watch a movie. I miss riding in the car, talking about everything and nothing. I miss having someone SMART to talk to, who isn't my mom. I miss the escort to parties and conventions.

And I really miss having someone to shovel for me. I may die before my massage tomorrow (24.5 hours!!!)

Ben has done our driveway [when the neighbors with plows don't] and our walk and front steps for the past fifteen years. That's the only part he's responsible for.

My car is parked in the garage and my sister-in-law's car, which my mom has been driving, is in the driveway. My mom says that I should get the garage because I have to go out in the morning, and she doesn't. Every day that we get snow, or that branches fall off our old oak tree, I'm SO grateful to her - even more so than usual.

As I said, we have neighbors with plows. Therefore, our street is clearer than the rest of my entire route to work.

My boss let me go home an hour early, since he's out of town and, with all the other offices closed, no new work came in.

I stopped off with his outgoing mail, parking in icky slush.

When I got back to the house, I stopped the car in the driveway so that I could knock off as much of the slush as possible, so it won't melt in my mom's garage and make a muddy mess that I'll be sweeping until spring. Then I needed to clean my shovel, so I used it to clear off my sister-in-law's car. [I use a child's plastic shovel; with the snow on it, it's about the max that I can lift.]

Then I looked at our deck. Oy to the vey. It hasn't been cleared since the first snow of the season. Because it's already unsteady, I worry that the weight of the snow will bring it down. [Ed, my mom wants to talk to you about carpentry!!]

So, I cleared the steps, one by one. My boots are damn good for $30 promotional items; I was warm.[I don't get the point of the pink camouflage ones. Why pink camo, to blend in at the mall??] I started to do the sides, and I remembered the man I almost married, John. He was a pain in the ass, but he shoveled and cleared my car for me. Before I even reached for the cell phone, though, I remembered that he was a psycho stalker who made my mom cry.

I only made it 3/4 up the side and wanted to quit. The center of the deck is what scares me, though. I shoveled a line through the center, hoping that the sun [it's sunny and 31F right now] will melt along the dark line of the [untreated - the last carpenter was a thief] wood planks, and maybe the snow will be easier to move later.

On shaking legs, I made it back down the stairs [which had to be shoveled after the snow I knocked over the side] and to my car. I finished knocking the snow off my wheel wells, and cleaned the shovel in the other snow.

Aside: I never see the neighbor kids out in the snow. Even I, the laziest child on the planet, would get involved with snowballs and forts. We have big lawns and a park across the street.

Got the car into the garage, and left the shovel leaning against it so it would dry.

Closed the door, climbed the stairs back to the house. I had to take off my boots on the stairs, to dry. As I stood on the cold stairs, I realized that my Levis are also soaked, so they're draped on the railing. Despite:Long sleeve shirt, another long sleeve shirt, long sleeve fleece, light flannel hoodie, fuzzy lined hoodie, fuzzy lined jacket, AND coat, climbing those last two steps with bare legs SUCKED.

For the record: tattoo ink is NOT enough to keep you warm. Another reason to want a boyfriend!

I think it's time for a nap. After that, I'll find a radio station where I can listen to the Inauguration at work [no speakers on my computer, or I'd just put on CBS.com], and figure out which blue or white shirt looks best with my ruffly red sweater, or if I should wear a different red sweater, or if I should look for a blue sweater and just wear a red headband... I seldom bother to accessorize at ALL - if it's clean and paid for, it's good enough for me - but even though no one will see me but my boss and my blessed massage lady, I've got to intentionally wear red, white, and blue for the first time [except for 9/11 and the surrounding days] in eight years.