How I Caused the Great Blizzard!

Now that everyone has calmed down from the recent snowstorm, I have a confession to make: I caused the great blizzard! I didn't mean to cause this chaos. It was just an experiment that went wrong.

It started two winters ago after I shoveled the snow from a small snowstorm. With the prediction of another storm in two days, I decided to leave the snow shovel on my porch, ready for action.

When the storm hit, it was only flurries -- nothing to shovel. However another storm was predicted later in the week - a big one. Again I left the shovel on the porch. When this storm hit, it turned out to be only rain. Again I left the shovel on the porch. For the rest of the winter there wasn't enough snow to shovel.

So last year I decided to try an experiment. When the first snow of the season was predicted, out came the snow shovel. It stayed on my porch the entire winter. The total snow accumulation for last winter was only about eight inches. The presence of the snow shovel seemed effective in warding off big snow storms. Time after time, while the shovel was on the porch, either the snowstorm failed to arrive, or only an inch or two fell.

Perhaps this was a fair experiment. Sure, when the shovel was on the porch, we had little or no snow. But what would happen if the shovel remained far away from the porch? Would we have big snowstorms? So this year I left the shovel in the basement.

You know what happened last weekend: we got hit with a whopper of a storm! It wasn't even winter yet! So, I'm to blame for the blizzard. I didn't mean to cause such chaos. But I had to know if leaving a shovel on the porch can effectively ward of a snow storm.

I've been trying to figure out how the presence of a snow shovel on my porch keeps the snow from falling. The best I can come up with is that once a snowstorm sees that I'm prepared for it, the storm decides to save its snow for a place where people are not prepared. What's the point in dumping a foot or two of snow if people are ready to shovel it? Can someone come up with a better explanation for the effectiveness of the snow shovel on my porch?

So, I promise, really promise, that I'll take steps to ward of the snow all winter. To make up for the problems I caused by leaving my snow shovel in the basement, I'll leave two shovels on the porch. The picture below shows my current precaution against more snow.






Harvey
ifatreasurer@mac.com

How to Keep From Punching Your Neighbor!

So you just spent two hours shoveling out your car, that is, your second car, the one that's not in a numbered parking space. Your back hurts and you decide to go to the CVS for some aspirin.

When you return, a neighbor's car is parked in the space you just shoveled out. You look around and the only spots not taken are the ones that were not occupied before the storm hit; they are buried in a few feet of snow. It would take another two hours to shovel out any of these spaces.

Do you feel like punching your neighbor who cavalierly parked in "your" parking space? Technically, anyone can park in an unnumbered spot. But in this case, it would take a lot more nerve than I have to park in a spot that someone spent hours clearing.

So what can you do to keep some bozo from parking in the spot you broke your back to clear? One solution is to do what some people in my part of Inverness Forest do. Take a look at this picture:

No, it's not Santa's new sleigh. Santa is warning people not to park in that space. Someone has worked hard to clear that space. If you want to park in this area, clear off your own space.

Usually the things people put in the space to reserve it are a lot less colorful than this Santa I came across today. I've used an old milk crate with a pile of junk in it. The purpose is the same, but the person who came up with the Santa was much more imaginative.

And, if you arrive in our community and find a spot with Santa sitting on a chair, please don't move him to the sidewalk so you can park in that spot. You're asking for a punch in the nose!

Harvey
ifatreasurer@mac.com