I have never met a slurry with worse manners.

I braved the elements today, with all the mentality of avoiding procrastination. "Today," I told myself "I'll shovel the driveway without even taking time to double-layer socks. Then I'm sure to avoid procrastination." Only a minute later I was dressed and shoveling the thick clumps of the indignant, icy stuff off the pavement. I silently congratulated myself for not procrastinating on this arduous task. About fifteen minutes into the job, I was bent over my shovel, hauling the maximum amount of snow possible, back straining, eyes tearing from the blistering wind, mind focused, when everything changed.

 I heard a low rumbling, and looked up to see my soaking demise. Red, flashing, and screaming in a fury best described as "huge", a snow plow came around the corner. I was happier when my view of it was obstructed by the hill in the yard. Just in the split second that I looked up to see the brutal machine, I saw flying towards me a monumental pile of ice, slush and other unidentified gray matter from the road. In a splendid trajectory towards me, this pile had no plans of stopping or saying "I'll be considerate and land just to your right.". I have never met a slurry with worse manners. So I was to be found, continuing my task of snow removal from the driveway covered (from the fur-lined top of my hunter green parka to the tips of my black boots) in the previously described pile of snow, ice, and gray matter.

 Upon speculating the evidence of my task completed, a clear driveway, I dropped the shovel by the door. I strode into the gloomy garage undefeated. So you see, even though I was indignant towards that particularly rude spray of snow, the snow plow itself was no match for me.