I can see it now. A blizzard buries our cars in the driveway and makes our sidewalks impassable. No problem. I can just call my boss and say that I cannot shovel my way out and can't come to work because I am saving the newly formed and endangered Milton Avenue glacier. I will instead go out and give it a loving hug to let it know it is loved and appreciated. My boss will tell me that it is OK, my checks will still be electronically deposited and that he will see me in the late spring.
My wife will be equally understanding of the great needs of our planet and my tender care of it. She will be happy to sacrifice shopping trips as well as visiting our young grandchildren until next year.
There will be harmony. We will be one with our mother Earth:
And Jupiter will align with Mars. Peace will guide the Planet in the Age of Frozen Aquarius...
As I freely drift within my Utopian bliss a rational thought rudely interrupts:
"Steve, you make me sooo mad. I told you to get the 15 round magazines, not the 10! Now get your lazy, no good ass up and shovel me out so I can see my grandbabies!"
(H.T. Doug Powers.)