Snowblind!

I write from Providence, Rhode Island. I am told by roommate and TV media that everything out there is covered by some 20 inches of snow. I can’t see for myself.
It’s not just that basic fact that depresses me. I used to drive a Jeep Wrangler equipped with a plow rig. I never went out and hustled work, but used the truck to maintain the buildings I managed. I picked up occasional local jobs, but the purpose of owning the rig from the beginning was to be self sufficient. In 2005, the city ran out of space to put the snow on the main street and had plowed in the side street that serves as only access to the parking.
I sold the Jeep and plow rig last December, long after I should have. I had last driven it in October 2011.
There’s no self sufficiency left, for the storm or the property management or much of anything else. Things I was real familiar with I can still do. That list grows short. The combination of blind eyes and structurally deficient leg is a particularly bad one. I can’t really shovel 3 inches of light and fluffy snow. Twenty inches of the wet and heavy stuff is beyond me. I know that. I’m not writing it to whine or solicit help, but to add a layer of acceptance to my condition. Like not selling the Jeep for fourteen months after I could last drive it, sometimes the coping mechanism works slower than "it should."
The more valuable analogy for this post is the blizzard blinding white out. My eyes are like that all the time, although the level varies. Car visibility is measured in quarter miles. My visibility is measured in feet, but the cause and effect are identical. If there’s too much gunk between you and what you’re looking at, you just can’t see it.