I’m home for the weekend! In anticipation of my arrival, the county seemed to decide the best course of action was to not plow the roads in my neighborhood. But that’s okay. I’ll probably repay them by inadvertently knocking down a mailbox at some point.
Right now—and this is really awkward—my neighbor, who’s a little older than me, was snowmobiling around outside. In the dark. In my front yard (which I always hate because dammit, that’s my perfectly untouched expanse of snow and I’ll mess it up as I see fit).
And now he’s stuck.
I can hear him revving the engine, and I’m toying with the idea of going out to help him, but I can’t promise I won’t make the situation worse. I’m actually well-versed in the art of getting stuck things more stuck. Once when I was fourteen I got my snowmobile so stuck a few miles from our house that I seriously considered just leaving it there and trekking home.
John Tucker Must Die is on TV, and my parents won’t let me change it. So that’s where we are. I already forgot about Neighbor Stuck in Snow. Is he still out there? I can’t see him. He’s probably fine.