It’s 3:45 a.m. I’ve checked the weather for Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania and I am reasonably satisfied that delightful creature, Punxsutawney Phil, will predict an early spring.
I’m running out of places to put all the snow I keep shoveling. And the ice. The ice! Layer upon layer of ice on the driveway has been my nemesis for the last month. As fast as I can chop and shovel it away, it comes back. After working on the same spots all month, I started experiencing weird feelings of deja-vu and the desire to hit something other than ice.
I’m pinning all my hopes on Phil. He’s our only chance. If he doesn’t see his shadow, it will all be over soon. If he does, well, I won’t think about it now. I’ll think about it tomorrow. If tomorrow ever comes.