Here comes the snow plough

The man who drives the snow plough here can't win. If he doesn't show up, people are pissed because they are buried in piles of snow. And if he does - like on this particular lovely March day that involved about 10 cm of snow - then he clears the street but dumps the white stuff all over your driveway, possibly leaving you even more pissed off.

It happened to me today - I put on snow pants, gloves and similar gear necessary to battle the white stuff on the driveway. Minutes later, I was freezing and sweating at the same time, the overalls from my pants had loosened up and were halfway down my ass and the whole look of overly baggy winter clothes in horrific colors and patterns was complemented by my runny nose and my hair doing uncontrollable things. But I shoveled anyway and was proud to see the dark driveway slowly emerging underneath the white stuff.

And then the snow plough guy came. And again. And again. Three times he drove that monster around the block and three times he dumped mountains of white stuff on the freshly shoveled driveway. I could have sworn he kept backing up more each time, so as to pick up more speed and dump more of the white stuff. I even tried to confront him with an intimidating stare, although I don't know how intimidating I looked with my earmuffs all crooked and my rose running.