If you’ve never lived in Wisconsin (or any other area where real winter is a fact of life) shoveling snow might seem like an idyllic pastime: fluffy white clouds, snowball fights, rosy cheeks, making snow angels and stomping your feet gaily as you enter the house…
All that is pretty much bullshit.
While rosy cheeks are certainly a reality, so are the back-breaking hours bent over the heavy-ass shovel, sweating and freezing at the same time, spiky air stinging your lungs with every intake… And the knowledge that the storm still isn’t over, that around 3-4am the city snow-plow will rumble by to wake you up and bury your driveway entrance with the hard-packed or sloshy, heavier than ununoctium mass that you’ll need to overcome in order to make it to work.
All that is pretty much bullshit.
While rosy cheeks are certainly a reality, so are the back-breaking hours bent over the heavy-ass shovel, sweating and freezing at the same time, spiky air stinging your lungs with every intake… And the knowledge that the storm still isn’t over, that around 3-4am the city snow-plow will rumble by to wake you up and bury your driveway entrance with the hard-packed or sloshy, heavier than ununoctium mass that you’ll need to overcome in order to make it to work.
Welcome to winter fucking wonderland!
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