Eighteen inches of snow! When we were forecast to get six to ten!
Delivery vans kept getting stuck in front of our house, the neighborhood children were shrieking and sledding from dawn till dark, the local cats were disgusted . . . it was a real old-fashioned New England snowstorm.
Shoveling epics such as this one are much better with a strong 23-year-old in the house. Even still, the three of us spent a long time last night clearing the driveway and walkways, and there will be more to do today, now that the plows have finally gone through.
So I'll be out there again, trying to drag the recycling bin through the drifts, trying to thaw out my car so I can ship a last Christmas package and then drive to the Eastern European market to buy Hungarian sausage.
At least I got a lot of editing done yesterday, while we were snowbound. And Paul baked a gorgeous babka, and Tom prepped the basement for new wiring, and the cat hid under a blanket and sulked.