M.I.A.

Wouldn't you know it? The days after my first post about the Old Man, and he's nowhere to be seen. Could it be the fact of life known as the ever-awaiting certainty of death? Nah, I think he's just on vacation. Good for him. I wish I were on vacation, but I'm still a month and a half away. So, there's not much current stuff to write about, so I thought I'd write a few of my observations from the past. One in particular. This past winter we had "Snowmageddon." Spellcheck tells me that "snowmageddon" is misspelled, and also "spellcheck," but that will change one day. So, we had two blizzards in one week. Blizzards are a lot of fun. They're one of my favorite natural phenomena to experience. But I'll be quite honest; two in one week was way too much fucking snow! Regardless, I prepared for the first one and had a bit of buyer's remorse when I got home to unload and realized how much food, booze, and cigarettes I'd bought. As usual, the luck of the Irish (? I have no idea if I'm Irish?) was with me and I was SET for two consecutive blizzards. So what does this have to do with the old man? Well, since I bought my house in November '09, I've accumulated a few things. A snow shovel, other shovels, a trowel, a garden hose, etc. Imagine a really old dude and the shit that he's probably got in his big shed. If you're thinking "snow-blower," you are correct! So, as the snow fell, I shoveled every hour or so, trying to keep my sidewalk clear in small increments as opposed to the back-breaking task of clearing a walkway covered in 3 feet of snow. Did I mention all of the booze I'd bought? Well, one can assume how long my "every hour clearing effort" went. I quit, and subsequently woke up sometime mid afternoon to a perfectly chiseled walkway. The culprit? My old man neighbor. I didn't know this at the time. I walked through the neighborhood later that day, screwdriver in hand (of the oj variety), looking for someone with a snowblower that I could thank. With no luck of the Irish this time, but who cared? My work had been done for me, leaving me lots of time to play hockey in my basement.

Days passed. The second blizzard hit. And it happened. I witnessed the old man clearing my sidewalk with his snowblower. This was a great opportunity to thank him and introduce myself. I walked out towards him and with a wave and a loud "hello!" he turned and headed back towards his house. I shouted at him. "THANK YOU!!!!" While shaking my fist at the heavens above.

The man saved me a lot of blood, sweat, and probably spinal column injury. And he was either being an asshole or Christ-like by doing something nice, and then not receiving the thank you he deserved. Either way, I had a good idea that day that this man has a good heart that, in times of natural disaster, outweigh his deep hatred for the bastardly new neighbor.

Until next time...