The next time it snows … W.B. Mason has my back.

I’ve blogged before about how common folk like me can actually order things from the office supply store W.B. Mason. During the pandemic and various surgeries, I’ve ordered supplies and whatnot from W.B. Mason, and the products have always arrived safely at my front door. It doesn’t matter if I’ve ordered paper, cartridge toner, or 96 rolls of toilet paper. Yep, that happened.

I got 96 rolls of toilet paper? Holy crap!

But with upcoming storms on the horizon – at least the kind of storms that could make someone with two surgically repaired diabetic-neuropathy-ravaged feet slip and fall, I’m going to need some serious ice melt. Or rock salt. Or Halite. Or whatever works best these days.

And guess what … for $30 and shipping, W.B. Mason offers a big canister of ice melt. I mean, yeah, it’s set up for customers who have a huge parking lot to de-ice, along with front steps to de-ice and any other customer-traversed walkways to de-ice …

So on Tuesday, I ordered a canister of W.B. Mason’s “Melts Magic” compound. Yeah, I know, all I have is a front porch and a little bit of a sidewalk, but it’s either pay some kid in the neighborhood $20 to shovel that – which, in this day and age, requires me to FIND some kid who will do it for $20 – and hope that the product melts the snow properly.

Yesterday, I came home to find a big canister of ice melt on my front porch. Aces.

So what is the plan with this can, man?

Well, according to the weather report today, we’re expecting two to three inches of snow. But that snow will arrive while I’m away from the house. Meaning … if the snow and ice arrives, and I’m not there to clear it away, some poor soul could slip and fall in front of my porch, I could get sued, I could lose my apartment, and I’d be out on the street, homeless. And you don’t want me to be homeless, do you? DO YOU??

So before I head out this morning, I’ll spread some of this ice melt on my front porch steps, and onto the sidewalk. Whatever it can melt ahead of time will make me happy.

Yeah. I don’t need to fall flat on my tuchus and spend another two or three months of surgery and recovery and recuperation.

Considering where I was at this time last year – in the hospital, with my surgically repaired leg hoisted in the air and stuck watching Kansas City win the Super Bowl.

At least this time, if I’m stuck watching Kansas City win the Super Bowl, my leg won’t be stuck in the air and I won’t be stuck eating hospital food.

Just sayin’ is all. An ounce of prevention (and a few shovels of ice melt) will be worth a pound of cure.