well, no, not the real deal, of course, but the cold that stops your fingers from moving after 15 minutes of shoveling, and you think it hurts then as you’re trying to continue to maneuver the shovel, but you soon realize that pain is but the buzz of a gnat compared to the nerve-burning pain that comes when you get back inside where it’s warm.
okay, so that doesn’t sound all that fun, either, and my fingertips do still sting as i type this, but, not unlike being sick, it’s coming out the other side that’s the good part.
well, i think so, anyway.
i’ll admit, the fifty-foot driveway and the likelihood of another snow-filled winter is daunting, and there are definitely plenty of days when i really don’t want to shovel, but when i’m out there, either with the shovel or the snowblower, it’s almost meditative, even a bit cathartic for any frustrations i’ve been holding on to, and it works out the kinks from these old bones of mine.
shoveling (and snowblowing – we do have 75+ feet of driveway) is a one-task-deal. by that, i mean, it’s not something i can do with one hand on the cell phone(if i owned one), or while watching television, or taking care of the bills. when i’m shoveling, i’m shoveling; that’s all. in these times of multi-tasking, both at work and at home, when the result of all is very often less than the quality i would like for any of the individual things i engage in, being forced to be solely and entirely involved in one activity is a great thing, and a reminder, for me, anyway, of what it means to be truly satisfied with a job done well.
plus, i fell all macho for putting up with the bitter cold, well after any sane person would.
until i come inside and start crying from the pain, of course.