Stuck With The Weather

My wish came true. In case some of you are cursing my proposition, a week or so ago, that we have some snow, I refuse to take full blame. Snow is to be expected at this time of year, unlike the nearly 60 degree days we had this January, yet, we still grumble about it. Since I asked for it, I’d best brush off my feet (one of Dad’s well-set examples from my childhood) before I put them in the car and try to smile through my muffler.
It’s hard to even fake that grin when the cars get stuck, and they have several times in recent weeks, tires spinning in either thick pockets of snow or, days earlier, in muddy grass. Hot and humiliated, I have to wake a husband who’s tucked in a cozy bed after a 10-hour work shift to pull out our cars with his van that has the tow hitch.
To his daughter, “Why did you drive the car clear over there on the soft grass? It’s soggy from all the rain.”
“But you were parked behind me, Dad. I wanted to get around you so I wouldn’t have to ask you to move your car.”
“Well, now, you got me up, anyway. I would rather have moved my car.”
Or, to me, “Why did you cut over into the grass? You cut it too sharp.” He was folding something as he went on, “I’m sure glad I bought this tow strap. The way things have been around here, I knew it would come in handy.”
SO, it’s all his fault. He expected us to get stuck, and we did.
And, again, to me, “It wasn’t so much the snow, but you cut over into that big rut you made the last time you were stuck. That’s why it wouldn’t pull itself out. Maybe you should back in when you come home, ready to head out, since you can’t seem to see where you’re backing when you leave.”
“I can’t tell where I am. I didn’t think I was over that far.”
The first time was a learning experience. The second time was frustrating (and I muddied some really nice suede shoes). The third time had better have been the charm. I hope we aren’t going for a fourth, but I am glad we have the tow strap.
Sorry, to wake you, Dad. Blame it all on the weather.