I did get back to sleep. I woke again to light mist and a warning from the television weatherfolk that any snow not cleared in the afternoon would soon become more-difficult-to-deal-with ice. Pain meds allowed me to wield the pushbroom, though using a shovel was still out of the question even just for scraping without lifting snow in it (result determined by experiment). A neighbour yelled out his window asking whether I needed help, and I replied that I wasn't sure yet; when I'd done what I could with the broom and stared at the trod-upon section already packed down and stuck to the concrete it didn't seem like enough to call someone across the street to get up, so I figured I'd throw salt on it and hope that would suffice (and that pedestrians would have the sense to walk on the cleared part instead of the uber-slippery zone). I went back inside to make something hot to eat and drink, and Breno arrived a few minutes later. In that little time, the salt had been far more effective than I'd expected. Yay chemistry, both the "make me able to navigate stairs" kind and the labour-saving kind. And, as long as I'm cheering for chemistry, yay for the food kind as well.
Then the pain meds wore off. Ow. Glad I'd already decided not to try to go anywhere today.
Purple potato pics pending, pain permitting.
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