"I don't have a shovel; I have a landlord," I overheard a co-worker say on Friday. The Eastern seaboard was to be hit with a big snowstorm, and conversations inevitably turned to the weather.
The comment made me smile, and it also made me think. I haven't shoveled snow in almost three years. (And yes, I did shovel snow in Columbus. My wonderful husband would always be the one to shovel early in the morning before we left for work, but I would dig out his cozy Carhartt, two sizes too big for me, and shovel when I got home from work.)
The snow hadn't started when I went to bed Friday night, but there was an inch or two and counting when I awoke on Saturday. Even still, when I looked out our living room window, it appeared that our building's superintendent had already cleared the sidewalks. Sometimes apartment living isn't so bad at all.
And yet, we still do own a shovel. We store it in the car trunk, just in case we need to dig ourselves out. We haven't used it in -- you guessed it -- almost three years.