Perfect Mix-up

The other day we had a bit of snow that covered our driveway and walkway. You could hear the roaring brigade of snow blowers in the neighborhood. You could also hear the quietness that surrounded our snowed-in house. You see my husband fears snow blowers. He believes that their sole purpose is to chop, mangle and eat his foot. As a result of this belief we shovel our way out. I should correct that statement, he shovels his way out as I refuse to feed his irrational belief in the flesh hungry snow blower. Occasionally I rely on the kindness of strangers (said in my head with a delightful southern accent) to dig me out.

We are lucky to have strong, fearless, rational neighbors with snow blowers who come to our rescue. They will see my husband struggling against the elements and clear the sidewalk for us as he tackles the driveway. A good neighborly exchange follows, the two have a male bonding moment and we all live happily ever after. So when it snowed this week I anticipated a similar routine. Husband, shovel in hand, attacks driveway. Husband gets wet and cold, flings shovel over left shoulder, enters house muttering under breath, snow wins. I went to take a nap as it was obvious the car was not moving from it's snowy prison. Defeated, my husband retired to his room to watch a game.

When I awoke from my winter's nap I was surprised to see the driveway had been cleared of snow, not by man and shovel but by roaring machine. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. How could this be? Did my husband have a change of heart and buy a snow blower? Just as I was about to find and question my husband he found me. He was telling me that the guy next door must have plowed the driveway. He was going on and on about the guy next door. The guy next door, whose name had obviously escaped my husband was now my husband's hero. We immediately found a bottle of red wine to send over as a thank you. My husband, after being reminded of our neighbor's name, brought the bottle over to offer his thanks. The exchange was quick, the wife accepted the wine and said she would pass our offering of gratitude on. Life continued and everyone lived happily ever after, so we thought.

It wasn't until I spoke with my sister a week later that I realized our folly. My brother-in-law wanted to know when he was getting his thank you. I searched my brain but couldn't remember what I had forgotten to thank him for. Well my sister took but a moment to inform me of my apparent slight. Apparently while I was napping and my husband stroked his bruised ego watching a game, my brother-in-law plowed our snow covered driveway. WHAT! I immediately told her she was mistaken, clearly the neighbor had done this random act of kindness. We delivered wine, really good wine. The token had been accepted, the thanks had gone to the appropriate recipient. Right? As it turned out the neighbor had indeed plowed our sidewalk but he had not turned his flesh eating, snow blowing machine onto our driveway. We had indeed sent accolades to the wrong guy. "Hey guy next door, my brother-in-law wants his wine back".

As I write this the snow has begun to fall again. The last remnant of blacktop has now disappeared. My husband's shovel is waiting for him by the garage door. The neighbor is probably anticipating a Chardonnay. My brother-in-law will forgive our perfect little mix-up and plow out my driveway; my husband will be thankful no one lost a foot. I will go to bed dreaming about having a perfectly grand snow blower of my own.