My foot is better than it was a couple of days ago but it still hurts like the end of the world. My elbow still hurts too.
It snowed last night. Not a lot, but enough. There I was, looking at the snow, feeling the white hot agony roaring out of my foot… and there are four buried cars.
The worst part? My comrade in arms, my partner in crime, my red shovel with the curved handle is dead. My new friend, the yellow shovel with the not-quite-as-curved handle, would make its driveway premier.
How’d we do?
I figured I’d take it in shifts. Shovel a little, limp a little, wash rinse repeat. In the end it only took two shifts, including the fire hydrant.
How’d the shovel do?
The red shovel is dead, long live the yellow shovel.
Inside the Red Head's Head 