It started out on Sunday and continued through Monday, as predicted. We had just finished digging out from the previous storm, and the weather man promised that the next one would be much worse. Sure enough, it was. We are still digging out from this one two days later, and we're not done yet.
Of course, I've seen big snowstorms before, but not when I was this old and infirm. I found it frustrating to look out the window and realize there was nothing I could do about it except watch it pile up and wait for help to get through to us. I considered at least digging out the front door, but my wife pointed out that if I fell off the porch and couldn't get up like happened last week, nobody would be able to come and rescue me before I succumbed to hypothermia. Uncle Ken once theorized that the reason married people lived longer than single people is that, whenever they are about to do something reckless or stupid, their wives talk them out of it. I tend to agree with him.
We have both resolved that this would be our last winter on the Freehold. Time to pack it in and move to the old geezer's home, or at least to someplace in town closer to sources of assistance when we need them. I always wondered why so many people chose to live in a crowded urban setting when they could just as easily live in splendid isolation. Maybe this is why.
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