What do you think this is? Go ahead, take your best guess.
Well, let me tell you.
Ailing Husband has had too much time to sit and think. He has concocted this device to aid Dutiful Wife in her new position as Mistress of Ice Removal.
When I pulled into the garage after a busy 9-hr. workday, Ailing Husband met me in the garage with his invention. Before I could even bring my bags inside, he led me to the back of the house, had me climb a 6-foot snowbank and handed me that hammer head duct taped to the end of a 10-foot pole. Yes, 10-ft., that's no typo.
Oh, for gawd sakes, the man expects me to swing this thing and whack at the ice on the roof! The first three tries, I missed the whole roof. That thing is much heavier than it looks.
On the fourth try I get it to the land on the roof. A short time later, I have figured out that if I set it on the roof and swing it side to side instead of over my head, I can actually hit the target of the ice build up in the valley.
I grudgingly took whack after whack at about a 4-inch block of ice. "This is ridiculous," I complained. Ailing Anal-Retentive Husband assured me it was necessary because it was going to be 40 degrees tomorrow and the melting snow needed to be able to fall from the roof. I told him the least he could do was go into the house and get the camera so that I could document the fact that I am standing on top of a huge snowbank, still dressed in my work clothes under my long black jacket, heaving a heavy 10-ft. pole at a chunk of ice.
After some resistance, guilt must have prodded him to go inside and get the camera. While he was gone, my first chunk of ice fell to the ground. "Yeeesssss!" I screamed out loud. That felt so good! My arms were aching, but my minor success propelled me to keep whacking.
It wasn't long before all the ice was on the ground.
The valley is now pretty clear of ice chunks.
I am now taking my aching biceps inside for a much deserved glass of wine.
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