Here in Chicago, we suffered a bout of forced urban renewal back back in October of 1871. Just before this marshmellow cookout, we had grown leaps and bounds, thousands of trained men were returning from our very (un)Civil War between the states, and despite great technological advances made during the war, most of our city was built out of wood, without zoning, water, sewer, or gas lines. Heck, just 30 years later we were able to reverse the flow of the huge CHicago River, sending (literally) all our shit to St. Louis.
Because of the bovine-based conflagration, we literally started from scratch. Straight roads, plenty of room for a horse and trailer with alley access, and few crisscross streets that created such a traffic mess.
We also learned how to care for our private parking spots on public streets.
The following are the precise instructions you must follow to survive your horrific snowfall:
1. grab two shovels. Place one near the door, as if you plan to go out yourself.
2. Find a handy 14-20 year old residing under your roof. if the yute pretends to be sleeping shake as directed on the label, or until consciousness is achieved.
3. Hand them the second shovel.
4. Point them in the direction of your parking spot closest to your abode, indicating your own shovel as though you will soon arrive.
5. Search basement for two folding chairs, a broken broom, and a lampshade.
6. Sip your coffee slowly, as you inspect the snow removal activities of your offspring or excess yute who resides with you, from the warm indoors. If seen, nod nicely with a smile, waving for them to continue on.
7. Replenish coffee. As a sign of good faith, open door a crack, tell them you will have a fresh pot for them after they finish shoveling.
8. As the outline of your newly shoveled parking spot appears, grab the folding chairs, and set them near the front door. Finish your third cup.
9. Put on your coat, taking all due care to avoid leaving the warm indoors, at least until your offspring is three or four shovelfuls away from finishing the job.
10. Grab the chairs, open door, and shout loudly, "Here, let me help you with that."
11. Drop the folding chairs and other equipment, grab his/her shovel, and strain heavily and audibly as you remove the last three shovelfuls of snow.
12. Strategically place your folding chairs at either end of your newly cleaned parking spot, and add the lampshade to one of the chairs. (this has great significance later)
12. By this time your better half should also be awake. Go back and tell her, "Look at what I did !" pointing to the cleaned parking lot. DO NOT mention that all you did was place the two chairs out there.
13. Ask her kindly to sit in one of the chairs while your excess yute is sent on a search mission to find and dig out your car. Once car is placed in your newly cleaned space, keep your folding chairs at the ready for whenever you wish to drive anyplace. Sticking an NRA "I SUPPORT CONCEALED CARRY" poster on one of the chairs also does wonders.
Note: As long as Chicago has been incorporated as a city, drivers of horse and gas powered vehicles have used this procedure to clear snow, then save their own personal parking spot on a public street. And just as long, city officials have fought valiantly, but with no success, to keep car owners from doing this.
The reason for the lampshade is obvious. Much like Doug Adams' towel, any self-respecting car owner who plans long and hard enough to have a yute available to clear their snow, put up a NRA sign AND place a lampshade on the second chair is truly a force to be reckoned with. Either you are prepared for any contingency, OR, you partied so hard during the snow storm that your hangover renders you armed and extremely dangerous.
Trust me. It is the lamp shade.