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Operation Snowplow

July 12, 2019

Operation Snowplow has begun!

 

Here’s the deal. One of the dubious pleasures of living on the edge of the prairie is that after a snowstorm, it can take a while to get plowed out.

 

There’s no help for it. No one can predict how much it’s going to snow. The taxpayers can’t afford to have a huge snowplowing crew sitting around waiting to spring into action, so what the government likes to do is have not quite enough people or equipment for the worst-case scenario. 

 

The people who run the snow plows do a terrific job, but even when they start at Oh-My-God-It’s-Early a.m., they sometimes can’t get all the roads cleared soon enough to let everyone get to work or school on time. They have to prioritize which roads to plow first, and one of the priorities is to get the school bus routes open.

 

Makes perfect sense. No argument from me at all on that one. And, if you’re a parent who’s had three or four kids stuck at home during a three-day blizzard, my guess is you’d fight to get the kids to school on time.

 

The problem? We don’t have any school age children. We live on a two mile stretch of road where it’s just us and a young bachelor.

I know the current system is fair, and reasonable, and the best value for the taxpayers. I know all that stuff. On the other hand, if I run out of Cheetos, I don’t want anything standing in my way.

 

So, I have a plan.

 

I’ve been watching the bachelor up the road. He works hard, makes a decent living, is in his mid-twenties, has a well-stocked tool box and a reliable pickup. People of the female gender tell me he’s good looking, and when I see him, he always seems cheerful. I don’t go in his house, so I don’t know what kind of a housekeeper he is, but I’m pretty sure he’s trainable.

 

I’m telling you ladies, he’s a catch.

 

The best part is that once the snowplow gets to his house, it will also have to go by mine.

 

What I’m proposing is that he get married, sometime before November. Not just to any woman. She needs to be a single mother. I’d even settle for a woman who is currently married but wants to trade up, although I suppose promoting that is skating on the fine edge of an ethics violation.

 

The only catch is that she needs to have school age children. I’m thinking three would be just the right number. No high schoolers – I don’t want to have to do this again in three years. Fourth grade or younger would be best.

 

This is not without precedent. Not far from where I live is the small town of Herman, famous because it was full of bachelor farmers who got a little publicity about their plight and were swarmed under by women looking for a good deal. 

 

Everyone thought that was a great idea. This is kind of the same thing, except a little more focused, and I’m the one who benefits.

 

Which, as we can all agree, is the important thing.

 

I’ve run my idea past my neighbor and his parents. He’s not fully on board, although his parents seem intrigued.

 

But we need to pick up the pace. Winter is coming and I’m running low on Cheetos.

 

Copyright 2019 Brent Olson

 

 

 

 

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