Pride Goeth

Last night, after days and days of 50 degree temperatures, we got bombarded by a winter storm. It didn't just start snowing, the sky opened up and a biblical amount of snow fell on our little slice of heaven. Last night I mentioned to my dear sweet husband that perhaps he should call his friend with the big big truck and ask for a ride to work this morning. He pooh poohed me. It continued snowing and I renewed my request that he call said friend and ask for a ride to work. We've only had the car for a week and my fear was that he would slide off the road into a ditch or a telephone poll, or heaven forbid, another car. I was again pooh poohed.

Fast forward to this morning....

It is still snowing. There is now well over a foot and a half of snow on the ground and while the main roads may have been plowed, our little side street has not. As hubby shoveled the driveway, we watched one of our neighbors with a newer car with better tires get stuck in the street. It was five a.m. Still plenty of time to call friend with the big truck. More pooh poohing from hubby. I mean, what do I, the insignificant wife know. I mean, I only lived in NORTH DAKOTA for most of my friggin life, right? I couldn't possibly know anything about how a car, low to the ground, with front wheel drive and non-all season tires is going to drive on 20 some odd inches of unplowed snow... pfftt...

Fast forward again....

It is now six a.m. and husband is ready to back the car out of his carefully shovled drive. I stand in the doorway and watch. Down the drive he goes and...BAM! He hits the street and the unshovled, unplowed roadway and STUCK. Tires spinning, car not moving...stuck. I watch him for a moment, then I pick up the phone and call his boss to let him know that my idiot of a husband will be late for work. Then I put on a pair of jeans and my winter gear and out I go to help shove the car back into the driveway.

I suggest that he try to call for a ride. Nope. He picks up his shovel and, are you ready for this? He starts shoveling out into the street. I swear. He shovels a good three feet out and then gets back in the car. He goes roaring down the driveway and GETS STUCK AGAIN. Only this time he's blocking the whole street because he's at an angle. I go out again and help shove the car forward so the car coming up behind us can at least pass and then I watch as he guns himself forward inch by inch, slipping and sliding the whole way, toward work.

I don't know what pissed me off more, the fact that I had to go out, at six a.m. and push a fucking car because he wouldn't just ask for a ride, or the fact that god in all his pot smoking wisdom (because I'm a firm believer that god tokes up) allowed him to actually get to work, thus vindicating him in his eyes and making it that much harder for me to win the next argument.

(NOTE: This post was going to have pictures, but blogger is being stupid at the moment and won't let me upload. I'll have to post the pictures later, which, admittidly, is a little anti-climatic.)