To my driveway, I’m the guy that frees it from its snowy slumber like the sand-secluded tombs underneath Egypt. To me, I’m doing both of us a favor. Let me explain.
I’ve been the object of much attention lately for a particular outdoor groundskeeping activity, shoveling my snow covered driveway. People ask me about my driveway. It’s an inside joke. Every time I complete a successful snow remediation I post a photo of my conquest on Facebook. I number it in a caption so all can keep score. The latest stats? Eustice 10, driveway 0. It’s been quite a season. (For sake of full disclosure my wife has also shoveled it completely by herself twice.)
Many of you have asked me why I shovel my driveway. Actually, what you’ve asked is why don’t I get a snow blower or a plow service. The guesses for why I haven’t are varied. My personal favorite is that I’m too cheap. There may be something to that. Still, to me, the question really being posed is why I choose to shovel when I could just as easily choose not to.
The condition of my driveway during the winter is one of the only things in my life that is actually black and white. The condition of my lawn in the summer is one of the few others. There’s no guess work. No gray area. No emotional temperature to gauge. No nuance or finesse to employ. It’s either covered in snow or it isn’t. My grass either needs to be cut or it doesn’t. My driveway is black and white. Literally and figuratively.
I don’t have to consider its feelings. I don’t have to couch things. I can be myself without forcing myself to be myself.
I also receive instant feedback. I know where I stand. There’s instant gratification with every pass of the shovel. There used to be snow there. Now there isn’t and I did that. And at the end there’s a sense of accomplishment. There’s a beginning, in progress and a finale. I know where the end is and how close I am to arriving. The heavier the snow, the greater the reward.
There are no surprises when you shovel your driveway. (Unpredictability can often lead to delight but an existence full of surprises is exhausting.)
It’s therapeutic. (You have time to reflect and recharge. It’s pretty good exercise, too.)
So, yes, I shovel my own driveway. For the time being anyway.
You might want to give it a whirl.
