Poor elderly lady across the way
called yesterday and asked if I
had
a snow blower.
I had to ask her twice to make
sure she said what she said.
I told her, maam, that's a sheet of
solid wet ice, not snow.
She was about to go look for the
newspaper and I had to convince
her to not step outside and try to
get up and down the steps.
I took a garden hoe and chopped
through the ice and found her
newspaper and took her a hamburger
and some chips for supper.
Her and her family migrated from the
northeast some years back and
still haven't assimilated to the state
after all these decades.
Snow blower. . . . .
