My driveway reported a whole lot of snow. Like snow that was easily higher than the end of the output chute from the snowblower. This made moving the snow a whole lot of fun.
I carved a path one snowblower wide to the bottom of the drive and then studied the problem of how to turn around. I eventually carved out a circle down there as a turning zone and went back to it.
After something over an hour, I had cleared the driveway once. This meant that the snow was removed to a depth where the snowblower could actually remove the rest of the snow. But at that point the snowblower ran out of gas, so I took this as a sign to take a break and go in and have lunch.
Forty-five minutes later, I headed back out again. Cleaning off the remaining snow from the driveway wasn't too hard.
Clearing the front walk, however, was. That had something to do with the taller-than-Katie drift that was blocking it. I let the snowblower munch on it until it hit the steps, then gave up and pulled out the shovel to clear the steps and the porch. That done, I did a bit of cleanup where I'd blown snow into the garage and headed in.
My clothes were completely sodden. They're drying out, as am I.
And in just a minute, I'm having a hot shower.
Because I deserve it.