The snow seems to have ended, and the sun is bright. It looks like about eight inches. I was just shoveling snow, I cleared my sidewalk and driveway, not as neatly as I'd like, but there's a good, clear path. There is a dirty iceberg in the running down the middle of the street, between my driveway and the mushy middle; I tried chopping at it, by my lightweight, plastic shovel just bounces off it like marshmallows; so I'm betting the snow plow, when it comes by, will chop it up. After all, it's going to leave a mound of stuff for me to clear away anyway.
I was going to back my car up, and clean around it; only I ran out of gas! I knew I was low, but how about that? Fortunately, there's some gas in the shed at the parish, so I'll walk over and get that, later.
Nothing left to do but come inside and have breakfast: some coffee and oatmeal.
I had Mass this morning; the music director told me last night he'd be there, so I asked him if he'd pick me up. He has a big Pontiac something-or-other that seems to do well in snow. For Mass it was he, I of course, and our dear Sisters of Charity, who hiked over from their convent. After communion, as we prayed silently, of course everything was so quiet -- one benefit of all this snow. And I heard the sound of a gas engine, and my thought was -- someone's mowing the lawn! Then reality reasserted itself. But it was a very pleasant thought!
Well, on the way back, the music director's tank got stuck in the snow. We got it out, and he got me back to my house, when I began shoveling, which took me about an hour.
Now I'm sitting in my easy chair, about to work on Sunday's homily. My boots for snow are drying over the register.
Oh, and it's 83 degrees, partly cloudy in Miami. In case you were wondering.