Fight the Plower

“Do you ever feel like you’re fighting a battle that you’re never going to win?” Aaron asked glumly as he took a sip of his Snapple.  “Do you ever wan to throw in the towel and just give up?”

It was the first Sunday of March and the best friends were seated on their favorite bench next to the river.

A look of grave concern crossed Holly’s beautiful face.  “I think we all feel that way sometimes.  Life can be overwhelming at times, but that doesn’t mean you should ever give up.  There’s always someone to talk to and you know you I’ll always be there for you.”

She reached out and patted him on the shoulder.  He squirmed away and shot her a look like he thought she had lost her mind.

“What are you talking about?” he asked incredulously.  “I’m not giving up on life.  I’m referring to this never ending battle with the snow.  It never stops.  All I do lately is shovel the damn driveway.  My back is killing me.  Every bone in my body aches.  I’m done.  No more winter for me!”

Holly let out a heavy sigh of relief and took a long sip of her coffee.  “You need to better phrase your questions then.  You’re the writer.  You’re supposed to be a master of words.”

Aaron wasn’t listening, though.  He was still too worked up with his issue.  “And don’t even get me started about the city snow plow driver.  It took me about an hour to clear the driveway yesterday, and at least half of that time was spent clearing the giant mountain range of snow he shoved into the end of my driveway.  It was up to my knees, Holly.  I’m 6’3″, and my knees are a long was from the ground.  That’s a lot of snow!”

Holly nodded.  She’d heard this rant in numerous incarnations over the years.  At least once every winter, but usually three or four times.  Aaron’s anger with the city snow plow driver was legendary.

“I know it’s a lot of work for you, but there’s really nothing he can do,” she explained as compassionately as she could.  “The street has to be cleared and the snow has to go somewhere.”

“But it doesn’t have to go in my driveway!  There are only two houses on my side of the street,” he continued to fume.  “He could push that snow anyplace else down the road and it wouldn’t cause anyone stress or extra manual labor.  He simply has to guide the snow past the opening to my driveway and deposit it there.  Why is that so hard?”

Holly rolled her eyes and gulped down more coffee.  She was going to need something stronger to drink if she had to continue this conversation for much longer.

“He’s a city employee,” she reminded him.  “He has miles of roads to clear.  He can’t keep track of special requests for every homeowner on his route.  The service is provided as is.  No special orders.”

Aaron shook his head in disgust.  “Why are you taking his side?  I’m your best friend.  He’s some stranger who makes my life miserable.”

“You have also been known to make my life miserable,” Holly quipped.

Aaron gave her a look.  “Is this because you hire someone to plow your driveway?  You’re a member of the snow removal bourgeois.  You don’t have to go out there like the typical working class citizen and get all sweaty and develop blisters on your hands from hours of shoveling.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Holly agreed.  “Let them shovel snow!”

Aaron shook his head again and downed the last of his Snapple.  “Fight the power!”

“I think you mean, fight the plower, Flavor Flav.”  Holly chuckled at her joke.

Aaron stared out at the river and longed for the warmer days of summer…