Big Mac Attack!

I heard the plows going outside, and the icicles were dripping, so you can guess that I got giddy with the pompatus of clear roads.
Because clear roads mean I can actually send out valentines.

I took the trash out, and saw that cars were...Gasp! driving! Breezing by. Oh those drivers were so arrogant. Like they were all Roger Miller, and quite proud of themselves.

I see my golden opportunity. I run down salted sidewalk, like a happy bowling ball with mounds of snow standing in as gutter guards. I run up all 43 steps to our apartment. I bust in like 'whodunit!' and grab my valentines.
 And I think, this is a cinch.
All i have to do is move a lil' snow around the tires of the car, and presto! I'm no longer on lock down!
I grab the dustpan, because it is at least shovel like.

And at first, I dig proudly. I'm evening humming king of the road to myself. 
Then I move to the back of the car, To clear off the hump. It was going OK. It was slushy.
 I stop to rub my forehead and there I see him.
A man, we'll call him Alejandro, is standing there. Hands on his hip watching me.
I shrug like "YEAH. It's a DUST PAN! Un Recogedor."

He chews his lip. And keeps staring. And now I'm self conscious. He's staring at me and my dust pan converted to hand held shovel. Staring. Like I'm an episode of  Amigos y Rivales. (which by the way, I got addicted to a few years back, So i know what i'm talking about. You just can't help but stare, it's such good bad tv.)
So I turn my back to him. Then I become even MORE self aware because despite eating a crap load of oreos this past week my pants are too big, and i'm afraid they will slide down enough to reveal my underwear.
Then my hat falls over my eyes. I have dirty snow on my gloves. I try the air blow tactic to no avail.
Alejandro is still just staring.

I want to yell "Take a picture, whydon'tya!?" Except he had a cell phone,  and he may think that gives him paparazzi rights. And that wouldn't work because 1. I'm not famous and 2. I didn't really want my underwear showing butt in the air picture plastered all over his myspace.

I decided I was quite satisfied with my digging job, and just KNEW I'd get out. So the time to try was right now.

I hop in.
I start the car.
I put it in R.
I mash gently on the gas.
I move!
I move backward!!
I do a punch-the-air-dance in my head. Only in my head, because I'm too scared to take my hands off the wheel.
So my punch to the air dance in my head only manifested itself via a lip bite/brow furrow.
I move oh, maybe 1 foot. as in A foot. One.
A whole foot, and my tires start to spin, and my car starts to fish tail.

I took a deep breath and tried again. I had visions of pulling off, and flashing the finger to alejandro, for his lack of faith in me and my dustpan. Except, I was a talapia en route to becoming a filet each time I tried.

I pulled forward. I put it in park. I got out. It was a lost cause.  High stepped, snow crunching under my feet, away from my escape. Fighting back tears, I couldn't even look at Alejandro.
I called my sister.

She had made it successfully to the grocery store.
I was walking. fighting back tears.
She told me that yes, she had a mac attack, as in, so stressed from living in/driving in these conditions that she got a Big Mac.
I sniffled. I told her it was stupid to cry about something so idiotic.
And I'd call her back when I was finished at Harris Teeter. (I hate Harris Teeter. It's trendy. Everything is priced doubly. People fill the aisles trying to be trendy choosing gelato flavors, but that's a different soap box.)
So I walk around and around, looking for anything that seems to say "Eat me. Eat me, you redheaded crybaby" (wow, the food at harris teeter is quite verbally abusive.)

I found a nearly $6 pack of hotdogs (they weren't even Hebrew Nationals), and i found some "cold chicken". I called my sister, and I said "what do I want....Hot dogs, or...cold chicken."
She said "Those are your choices?"
I said "yep. that's it."
She said "You should walk over to McDonald's for a Mac Attack!"

To me, that sounded like a fairly good idea. Despite the fact that I don't eat beef, and I'll pay ruthlessly for it tomorrow....
So after I paid for my necessities at H.T. (How Trendy!) I walked right over to Mc Donald's holding my Dr. peppers, and grocery bags, and put in my order for a Number One, Medium size. No shame. Just like that.

As I walked back in the sunset, the roads were becoming frosty and icy again. I looked at my car and snarled at the snow.

Walked back up the stairs and treated myself to a big mac dinner at Chez Suman....

so exquisite that billions are served everyday.