I heard the rumblings start Thursday night. And by the end of the weekend, I think I had heard it more than a dozen times. It went a little something like this:

“The city did a horrible job plowing the streets. You couldn’t get anywhere Thursday, and it wasn’t much better Friday. And when they did finally plow my street, they closed off my driveway, which I had spent two hours getting open.”

I see where the frustration comes from. It took me more than an hour to get to work Thursday morning, mainly because I live in a bit of a valley where the only way out of my neighborhood is uphill. That and someone at the top of one of the hills was out in the middle of the street with a snowblower when I was trying to get up it.