Done -- But at What Price?

The massive mound on my second floor deck is no more. Given the forecast for rain on Sunday, I couldn't leave it un-dealt-with any longer. So as I slid the door open I braced cardboard in the opening to stop any mini-avalanche (though it's packed down enough not to be much of a threat that way, anyway) and after knocking down a multitude of icicles with my trusty snow shovel began attacking the chin-high drift.

I worked slowly, with frequent brief rest stops, for about half an hour and got a lot of it on one side over/through/under the railings. Then I went and lay down on my bed for a while, then went downstairs to finish the morning cat chores. The felines, I found, were mildly freaked out by the snowfalls I'd been creating.

After a bit I went back upstairs and resumed the attack. I could only get the slider partway open, and couldn't go out on the deck itself to work since I was still in my fuzzy mukluk slippers, but by stretching from the doorway I was able to clear all but a final rimwall from the far side of the deck -- well, for a certain value of "clear"; there's still around half a packed foot on the deck surface, but I've gotten off at least 75 percent of what had been out there. So now I shouldn't have to worry about the deck collapsing.

I may collapse, though. Never mind waking up tomorrow stiff and sore; I've got immediate aches in my bad ankle and my phony hip. My lower back is grumbling. My brachial plexus has some rather bitter things to say too. We'll see whether the ibuprofen can settle them down; if not, I do have a small stash of oxycodone left over from the surgery recovery. Don't want to use it; haven't needed to for over a year; but if I'm in real pain after I run the daily errands and don't have to go out and drive again, well....

And then, next week, there'll be ice. Dear Merciless God, there'll be ice. I'm going to check out Peapod.