My New Year’s Eve was a real blowout—if you consider snow-blowing the driveway after work a blowout.
Trust me, I would’ve liked to have gotten plowed, just not in the way you’re thinking. I mean an actual plow. One that shows up uninvited and clears your driveway while you pretend you did something to deserve it.
After salting the sidewalk, I did get a little slushed, though—mostly by the snow.
Instead of getting three sheets to the wind, I put the sheets in the dryer after washing them. I was Arm & Hammered, but only because I underestimated how aggressive baking soda can be.
I rang in the New Year by wringing out my shirt after giving my Miniature Schnauzer a bath. Real party animal. Always all four to the floor. At least the hair of the dog is clean now, which is more than I can say for my dignity.
For some, my New Year’s jamboree might seem more jamboring, but I still had quite the ball. The ball my dog kept bringing back to me. And sure, I had a little bubbly—mainly because I gave her a bubble bath.
Best part? I didn’t even need to call an Uber.
Though I do wish there was an Ubrr—you know, where someone shows up at midnight, clears your driveway, and lets you pretend this was all part of the plan.
