Some people go looking for trouble and some people have trouble come find them.
Somehow, life has dictated that I be one of the latter. I am not sure if it has anything to do with the fact that I view each day as a grand adventure waiting to happen (because it is!) or if I am just one of those people. I just know that somehow trouble finds me anyway and I often don't even have to leave home to get into it.
Take today for example. I got all ready for a big trip to town.
I had a list. I had an agenda. I was a woman on a mission.
Until I shot out the door and saw my vehicle. Oh yeah. Rearing to a sudden stop (I tend to move pretty fast), I debated the situation.
The other day we had a lovely, spring-like day. The temperature marched its way up to 46 degrees. The sun smiled merrily away in the sky and I was in heaven. The massive amounts of snow we have received this winter began their slow melt. Water ran like a river, straight down our concrete driveway and pooled around my parked vehicle that I had neglected to put away in the garage.
It was great!
Except for the fact that the very next day we had a return to our colder, normal temperatures and my truck wound up being frozen into place. Whoops. You have heard of being land-locked? Well, I was ice-locked. Tight as could be, with another lovely spring thaw day today creating a veritable lake around my vehicle. Three or four inches of solid ice, underneath a covering of four or five inches of icy, slushy dirty water.
Pondering my options, I shrugged my shoulders. How bad could it possibly be?
Hooking my purse around my neck so I could balance with my arms, I daintily set out on my journey to traverse the lake that lay between me and my truck. Hopping and gingerly tiptoeing onto mini-icebergs peeking through the water, I somehow managed to make it to my vehicle without landing on my butt and getting drenched (thank you Lord!), and hopped in. Perfect! Starting it up, I immediately switched into four wheel drive and gave a cautious try. Tires squealed. Vehicle lurched. I got nowhere.
Getting back out of my vehicle, I again navigated the frozen slush and pondered my options.Okay.
Making a decision, I headed for the garage to see what types of lumber we had on hand. Not a lot. Major digging only uncovered two measly little 1 x 4's. Would they be adequate? Probably not. But not having any other visible options, I brightened up and grabbed them anyway. You never knew what would work. Carrying them back out to my truck, I meticulously placed them as tightly as I could behind the rear tires. Taking my time, I put a lot of thought into my efforts. There. That should do it.
Hopping back into my truck, I put it in reverse, hit the gas and watched with wide eyes in complete amazement as the two 1 by 4's became impressive missiles that went shooting underneath the truck and out the front end like bullets before landing harmlessly on my front deck.
Being eternally gratefully that my husband was not around to see this and fervently hoping I didn't wreck anything, I shut down the motor and hopped out once again to debate my predicament.
An idea! Grabbing an axe out of the garage, I made my way back to the truck. Swinging carefully, I tried to chop the ice out without getting wet. Didn't work. I instantly sprayed myself head to toe with icy cold, slushy, dirty snow-water. Gasping, I staggered back and reevaluated things.
By now my jeans were soaked halfway up my knees, and my boots were starting to seep little bits of water through the seams. Of course they were. They were made for riding horses, not navigating the Arctic ice pack.
Okay, things were getting serious at this point. I am not one to give up easily, and I dearly love a challenge. Besides, I really needed to get to town. Going back into my house, I called my 13 year old dear son to come out and help me. He came out, watched me for a second, started laughing hysterically and went back inside.
So much for help.
Fine. I would do it myself. I would deal with him later.
Grabbing another shovel, I started pounding away at the ice. To heck with getting wet. At this point it was irrelevant anyway. Icy water spraying every which way, I chopped and shoveled, and shoveled and chopped. I got a bucket and started scooping away the upper level of water to be able to see what was going on below. At intervals, I jumped back into my vehicle and tried to move it. Nope.
In near hysterical laughter I shouted at an uncaring sky "This is RIDICULOUS!!! I am a prisoner in my own driveway!!!".
Then suddenly realizing too late how comical all this must look, I wheeled around to see if the neighbors have set up their lawn chairs on their porch by now to watch the show. Phew. Coast was clear.
Then I heard my cell phone ring from the front of my truck.
It's Mr. Chickadee telling me he will be home in the middle of the night. Fine. He asks how everything is. I tell him but prudently leave out the lumber portion of the story. He is on a need-to-know basis only, and he doesn't need to know about that. He casually says, "Yes, I thought that you might be stuck when I left for work. Honey, just go grab the bag of rock salt from the basement and sprinkle some around each tire. You can drive right out no problem."
Okay, I will try it, I say.
But I am dubious. Hmm. Well, it can't hurt. But what he doesn't know is that there is a lake around each tire. I shrug my shoulders again and decide to try anyway.
Running back to the house and down the basement stairs to retrieve the salt, I encountered my kiddos who innocently said "oh, Mom, you're back already?". Ignoring them and grabbing the bag of salt, I headed back out and do as hubby said. I said a little prayer, hopped back into my truck and gave it a try. Whoosh!!!! Rock salt sprayed everything within sight. The truck goes nowhere.
That did it. Grabbing my shovel again, I went at it tooth and nail. Chopping and shoveling and scooping water, I worked like a wild woman. It was me against the elements. Sweat began to run down my back. My hair was falling out of place. I didn't care. I worked and worked and worked. This was it. It was all or nothing.
Tossing aside my shovels and ignoring the shards of lumber pathetically piled in pieces all around my vehicle, I jumped back inside it, fiercely tromped on the gas and darn near drove up onto my porch.
Hooray! It worked!!!
Smiling triumphantly, I backed out onto the grass, tooled around and drove off on my merry way.
Time elapsed: Two hours and thirty-three minutes of my life.
Long-term sense of satisfaction in my victory: Priceless.