In the spirit of the Games of the 20th Winter Olympiad, I just accomplished my greatest feat in recent memory.
While preparing the driveway for tomorrow's commute, I realized why, hours earlier, DirecTV had called it quits. No longer did our dish enjoy a clear view of the southern sky. Instead, it was covered by twenty inches of entertainment-suppressing snow.
Despite spending hundreds on a ladder last year, I had little confidence in myself, in the snow, to fix this problem without breaking my hip. With a yard of accumulation at my disposal, I channeled Peyton Manning and started chucking iceballs at our covered dish.
My first shot sailed 10 yards over the target. In true Manning form, I blamed my neighbor. But then I composed myself. Packed the next ball a little tighter. Took off my gloves. And I knew my second shot was a touchdown the moment it left my ice-cold hand.
This great success was shared with a half-dozen fellow shovelers. Without knowing my DirecTV service had been interrupted, I'm not sure what they were thinking.
I went inside and turned on the cross-country skiing time-trials. And after three minutes, I realized my feat was more fun to watch, and restoring DirecTV service was not that big a deal.
Here's a ticket to the Commuting Suicide archives. I realize this chapter was only tangentially related to commuting. But it's the weekend. On weekends, we'll explore the studio space.
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