Shoveling out from a storm that dropped a foot or so of drifting snow is a great way to meet your neighbors. It also makes everyone jealous of the guy down the street who owns the snowblower. Fortunately, he is aware of his special status and offers to clear the sidewalks of panting strugglers. So far, so good in the residential neighborhood manners department.

After an hour and a half spent clearing snow, hauling trash and recycling, and carrying firewood, I am feeling less fearful about falling into imagined traps of urban complacency. That was hard work before breakfast.

The rest of the day is likely to be more cerebral. Reams of editing await.