I’m currently an
unemployed PhD holder independent researcher, and I’ve been working hard on my new career today. I’ve been shovelling snow.
My major motive for shovelling the terrace was the visit of my mother. My mother isn’t a shovelling freak, but I couldn’t think of an excuse for explaining what business I have on the terrace in this weather. She would know that I go to the terrace because there were my tracks in the snow. I go there to smoke. Why, yes, I’m over thirty and my mother still doesn’t know I smoke. Why upset her, right?
My minor motive for shovelling was to create a dignified smoking environment. No more squatting out there in the snowdrifts and having the white sh*t drench my slippers. I can’t be bothered changing into proper boots for each smoking trip.
I shovelled a lovely snow-free aisle alongside the window, with a narrow outreach to the railings at one end, so that I could explain to the mother that I take photos at the terrace while resting my camera on the railings. Disappointingly, the mother neither asked nor did she notice my efforts.
She probably didn’t notice because the moment I was done shovelling, it started to snow. It continued throughout the rest of the day. It’s still snowing. I make regular rounds of the terrace to re-shovel. I’ve made snow walls of considerable height surrounding my cleared aisle. It looks like I’m preparing trenches for the next world war.
On a happier note, I believe I’ve grown muscles with all that shovelling. I can now consider taking up an alternative career as a cleaner with a specialisation in shovelling. Or a bouncer in a bar. Or a snowman, or snowwoman, complete with a snowcat. By the way, below is a picture of what my cat thinks of the snow.