So.... we got that winter wallop that everyone got, and for us (southern New England) it was a one-two punch. Sunday into Sunday night was snow, freezing rain, and in the morning, the schools had a 2-hr delay. I shoveled (well, snow-blowed) the driveway, no prob. About 3 to 4 inches. Then, Monday afternoon into night, we were supposed to get round two. And the weatherman was "well, it should have done this, but it's doing that" and adjusted the snow totals so that I was right on the line of "1" to 3"" and "3" to 5". I wake up to a foot. At least. No problems so far, I'm good, I love snow, so I make some coffee and go outside.
The end of the driveway is easily three feet high. I work my way through the mountain of snow - I felt like Jon Snow wading through the undead - and get to the street. Clear out about a three foot wide swath to work with.
Here's the piss: The snow plow comes, sees me in the street and stops. Cool so far. I blow into the driveway moving out of his way, and he starts up and moves a fucking mountain of snow right back into my gap! The fuck! You saw me move it! You couldn't swerve? Come back later? Lift the plow?