Loaded for Bear

So I'm cranking away with my snowblower yesterday afternoon easily sucking up and shooting the four inches of heavy sleet we received from storm Agatha. Little One is in her winter best frolicking off in the yard seemingly oblivious to the 14 degree temperature and 30 mph wind. Then it happens. ***CLUNK****. And nothing. Dead!

I fucking snowblowed into the Reminder Paper which in turn clogged up the snowblower and broke the belt that drives the blades. Friggin' thing was buried in the snow. Argggggghhhhhh!!!!

Not sure which, if any, expletives The Little One heard, but I'm sure I dropped no less than 25 F-Bombs!

Now, this stupid paper has been a bone of contention for me for a while. Its a free paper where people sell their car, washing machine, tag sale or whatever. Local businesses advertise tax preparation services or announcements of a new doctor at a practice, etc. I really have no use for the thing. They also have a "Speak Out" section where people bitch about stuff but I'd rather read blog bitching any day. I've even thought about requesting it not be delivered because the 40 something Rhodes Scholar in the yellow Dodge Neon drives by at, oh, 80 on my quiet little street and chucks it. Which means every week I have to clean up litter at the end of my driveway, or in my flowers or anywhere not close to my front door. And now this!!

Well, after I took the plastic cover off to find the problem and saw the broken belt I stormed inside and went online to find the phone number to call them. I mean, I was as pissed as can be which was accentuated by the fact that I couldn't find a number. Eventually I did. A pleasant lady answered the phone there and since it wasn't HER fault really, I tried not to take out my frustration on her. I did, however, explain that I was very, very angry and that I needed to speak with a supervisor. She was genuinely sympathetic and said one would call me back. "Yeah, right" I thought.

Ten minutes later he called. Surprise, surprise. My tact is usually to try to remain as calm as I can until there's a time not to be nice (again, Patrick Swayze in Road House -- "Be nice. Just be nice. Until its time to not be nice" - you didn't realize how profound that movie was, did you?). Anyway, I never got the chance to not be nice. He wouldn't give me a chance to kick some Patrick Swayze-style ass which, of course, would have made for a much better blog.

"I'm very sorry Mr. Blogger. That is the second time that's happened too. Get your snowblower fixed and remit the bill to me and I will see to it that you're reimbursed promptly. And, my next call will be to the carrier in your location".

Wow.

Mrs. Blogger thought I should have them come out and plow too, but I was pretty happy with what I got.