The Mystery of the Drunk Plow Driver

We dodged a bullet last night. The mega-storm which was supposed to have railed us with snow swung out to sea a hundred miles or so. While the eastern seaboard did manage to get a good amount of snow, our totals inland were much lower than anticipated. I slipped and slid on the way home a bit from the light covering we had, but after I got in at midnight, we apparently didn’t get much more snow at all.

The Narrator has a snow day. The school I work at isn’t closed….again…so I need to go in, but I’m waiting until I see a snow plow before I leave.

When I got up this morning around 6:30 and flicked on the front porch light to see how much we had gotten. I didn’t see much. My footprints from last night were still very clear, a light dusting covered the front porch, the plow tracks through the front yard were still clear as day….

Wait…..What?

I looked again.

Someone….had driven a snow plow through our front yard, pushing a pile to within a few feet of the house.

HUH?

There was no rhyme or reason to it. Firstly, there wasn’t enough snow in the driveway to necessitate needing THAT plowed.
Secondly, I shovel. We haven’t hired anyone to plow us out. Thirdly, who the hell was out plowing in a non-storm sometime after midnight when I went to bed? Lastly- we live on a dead end road that has a total of 6 houses…with us being the ONLY full time residents here…so it seems to me like it was completely accidental that the plow driver was here at all.

The only explanation is that alcohol was a factor. I’m only slightly annoyed- more so that he missed the driveway than he was here at all.

Strange.

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