After our neighbor Ron bladed the nearly two feet of snow off our 500 yard long "gravel" driveway, not much gravel remained. When the snow melted and more snow and heavy rains followed, the driveway became a quagmire. And since Ron showed me how to operate his Bobcat so that I could clear the driveway in case of snow while he's out of town, I made a bad situation much, much worse by tring to "fix" our driveway once and fore all. Will someone please remind me never to attempt anything resembling manual labor ever again?
Yesterday, I spent five hours trying to repair the mess I created last week when I first tried to blade the driveway. I scraped down to the original layer of crushed limestone and 3" rock that is the base of the road. The "repaired" driveway was firm, if not hilly, but there were no potholes or mud left by the time I was through. But I never thought to check the weather forecast. Last night, approximately eighteen feet of rain fell and turned the driveway into the thickest, stickiest, sloppiest melange of mud and clay I have ever seen in my life. Returning home with the boys from her mother's house last night, Bethany called me during of the heaviest of the downpour and said simply, "I'm stuck in the middle of the driveway." I said nothing. My spirit was instantly extinguished. "Did you hear what I just said?" Yep.
When I drove down to the van, I saw it was buried to the frame and the storm was getting worse. I stood in the driving rain long enough to become thoroughly soaked and to realize the situation was hopeless. I couldn't sleep at all last night. Guilt and helplessness wouldn't allow it. I felt like a total failure. I just waited for the light of day and hoped that it would change my perspective. I did not.
This morning, I went out early to try to pull the van out with my truck, but my old Dodge decided to sleep in. It wouldn't start. (The starter has been going bad for a while now.) So I walked to the neighbor's and hopped on the Bobcat again. I drove up to the van to try to pull it out, but it was sunk so deep that I couldn't even get under it to hook a tow rope to it. At that moment, the hours and hours of wasted effort, the ruination of our only way in or out of our house, the realization that we couldn't get Alex to school or Bethany to work, and knowing that it was all my fault caused me to have a total meltdown. I started convulsing, I doubled over in anticipation of throwing-up. I yelled. I cussed. I threw things. I paced. I screamed. I kicked at the mud. I cried. And my wife stood there and smiled. (She's good about seeing the humor in these situations. I am not.) Right then I am pretty sure I had a complete break from reality. I really don't remember much after that.
Well, Bethany saved the day. She always does. First, she called-in to work to take a personal day, then she called a tow truck. Then she called a gravel outfit and had six loads of rock brought in. I eventually got the truck to start and took Alex to school an hour late. Then I hopped back on that goddanged Bobcat and spread gravel between dumptruck loads all day. Then I shoveled rock into the barn and around the edges of the driveway. I emerged from the ordeal a shell of my former self. But the driveway is better than it's been in years, and I have my wife to thank for it.
I learned a valuable lesson today. I will never attempt to perform any type of manual labor ever again. Everyone who knows me will tell you that I hate work and am lousy at it, so I'm swearing it off once and for all. We're debt-free for godssakes. I will gladly pay experts to do the work for me from now on. I also learned that when the going gets tough, beg Bethany to fix the stuff I messed up.
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