Why Do I Stay Here?

Yesterday, I found myself questioning why I stay in Maine, Modern Philosophers.

I haven’t had such thoughts since the time of my divorce, and I’ll be quick to tell you how much I enjoy the slower pace of life in Maine.  And the people are so nice.  The area has inspired my writing.

But there’s something evil about this place that heightens my anxiety and makes me want to run like hell.  Not that I know where I’d go, but the desire to flee is there…

I took that picture yesterday.  I was sitting in my driveway after spending four hours clearing the snow.  That’s right, I said FOUR HOURS!

WRITER’S NOTE: I had to delete the photo I took yesterday because it ended up distorting the page for some reason.  This is an old stock photo from a previous storm.  Imagine you can see the tools I talk about in the next paragrh, though…

If you look closely, you’ll see the four different tools I had to implement in the clearing process.  There was the plastic shovel that I usually use.  The only problem was that it was useless yesterday.  Sticking up in the snow is the tool one would normally use to dig holes in a garden.  Then there is the ice chopper.  Finally, there is the old school metal shovel that I found in the garage when I first moved in twenty years ago.  I rarely use it, but it came in handy big time yesterday.

You see, Modern Philosophers, it snowed for twelve hours.  Then, for the next twelve hours, a wintry mix fell on top of that snow.  That wintry mix turned the snow into something so heavy and solid that many of my friends described it as “concrete”.

Snowblowers could do nothing to move it.  Snow shovels were mostly useless.  I had to get the ice chopper and chop away at the snow like it was ice.  Then I could use the shovel to transport the chunks of ice to the side of the driveway.

My arms are still sore from all the chopping.  When I was finished, my right arm cramped up so badly that I couldn’t move it.  Later in the day, both hands cramped up to a point that I couldn’t move my thumbs and index fingers.

As usual, the city snowplow left me my most difficult work.  The mountain of snow at the foot of the driveway was knee high.  There were chunks of icy snow so large that I had to lift them off the pile with both arms and move them to the side.

I used the garden tool to tackle the end of the driveway mountain range.  I’d break up the mountain with that, and then use the metal shovel to scrape the bottom layers away until I hit black top.  I had to stop several times for breaks.  At one point, I just collapsed on the porch and stared up at the roof.  I was too exhausted to move.  Too dehydrated to think clearly.  I was also determined to get the driveway cleared because I knew I wouldn’t want to deal with it in the morning.

So, I kept at it.  As the sun started to hit the driveway, the snow got a little softer.  At this point, I traded the ice chopper for the metal shovel.  I was able to slide the shovel under the snow, and then apply pressure to the handle.  That caused the snow to break off in huge chunks.  I’d snap off a dozen chunks at a time, and then, because they were too heavy for the shovel, I’d lift them with both arms and toss them onto front lawn.

It took me four hours to clear the driveway.  I gave up at that point.  The sidewalk is still covered in snow, but none of my neighbors have cleared their sidewalks, either.  Then city will eventually come through with a mini snowplow and clear a path.

I did not clear a path from the driveway to my front porch until I got home from work tonight.  I was honestly too tired to function after four hours.  When I took off my jacket in the foyer, I discovered my shirt was soaked through with sweat.

I took a shower, I made some soup, and I barely left the couch for the rest of the day.  I have never been that drained after clearing the snow.  It made me wonder why the hell I stayed in Maine.  It was four days until Opening Day, and I spent four hours clearing snow.

It’s just not right.

I’m starting to think Maine isn’t the place for me…