The snow has ended temporarily, which makes it too bad that the last two mornings' worth of my Spokesman-Review newspapers will not be hidden from view along the ditches and even in the neighbor's field.
Instead, as the wind blows, they'll probably move on toward someone else's paper box.
Could someone tell me why some newspaper deliverers (the local paper, specifically) can put papers inside the box every single day while others, who even take the time to turn around in our driveway, are pathetically delivery-impaired.
What is so hard about pulling up to a box and stuffing that paper inside? It seems to me that sometimes this delivery person goes to a lot more work than necessary to see that our papers are strewn all over the Selle Valley.
Rant, yes! Sorry, but this goes on so often that I'm about to cancel my subscription.
This morning the poor soul in Spokane on the other end of my second complaint call in two days endured the added reminder that this practice is just plain littering.
He also heard that I'm not going to trudge through the deep snow in the ditch and crawl through a tight barbwire fence to retrieve the pages that ended up over in Taylor's field.
Yesterday, I found the paper on my way back from a short walk down the road----pages 3-6, that is. No sign of the rest of the paper. So, with that complaint call, I was promised yesterday's paper along with today's.
No delivery on that promise!
Anywho, in time, the neighbors may find these papers, or the scattered pages will get buried in the snow for us to clean up in the spring.
Newspapers aside, we actually are enduring a much bigger problem here at the Lovestead, and it's all the snow's fault.
That first dump occurred last week before I had time to gather up all the Chuck-it balls around the place.
I think we have amassed about 15 for the dogs, and they're usually in different areas so the pups can take up a game of ball possession or just pacify themselves pretty much anywhere they go.
Not now.
They're hidden deep within the two blankets of snow, and no amount of sniffing has helped in finding them. So, the dogs have to resort to chunks of wood to carry around and chew on.
Yesterday when I was bringing the wood up to the house from the shed, I looked around just in time to see Liam grab a piece and drag it away from the sled.
That's when I realized he had done just the same trick the day before when I noticed a piece of firewood in a strange place.
I'm really hoping for warmer weather and for a mid-November melt so we can find the Chuck-it balls, gather up some more leaves and maybe even collect some of the newspaper garbage along the roadside.
In the meantime, it is really pretty outside, and now that we have the driveway, lane and even a circle around the dogs' play area plowed out, I'm not minding it----if I don't look at that crop of oak leaves, that is.
I've noticed that the similar complaints about leaves buried or stuck in the snow seems to enter pretty much every conversation I've had in the past day or so.
My friend Helen reminded me of the mess the city has now that most folks have raked their leaves toward the street to be picked up.
I guess our best laid plans of mice and men---even those of sitting down with a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper----have taken a hit lately, but we have to remember these things are all relative and pretty minimal compared to what some people have to endure.
Happy Tuesday.
No comments:
Post a Comment