Warning: I swear. Do I even have to say that anymore? Puhhhh... Swearing is good for you! So deal with it.
Matthew woke to the sounds of shoveling snow. He wondered if some kids were shoveling his drive for money. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to pay them, he thought, rolling over to find your warmth. Matthew shot up, finding you no where to be seen. “_____!” he called out, kind of worried. You never woke up before him.
There was no sound. Just the constant shoveling that was starting to grind against his last nerve. Throwing open the curtains he prepared to yell at whoever the hell it might have been to go away. But it was you.
He went down the stairs and out the front door. You didn’t hear him and kept on shoveling. “_____.” he said sternly.
“Hey, Mattie.” you said, not stopping.
Matthew frowned, “Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry, Mattie.” you said, grinning, but still not stopping.
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t win that one, “What the hell are you doing?”
“What the hell does it look like?” you asked, mimicking his tone, but leaving the grin on your face to show you weren’t angry.
Matthew was still really confused, “But why?”
“I might need to go somewhere.” you said, still shoveling.
He shook his head, “Why didn’t you ask me to?”
“I can do it.”
Matthew stepped closer to you, but stayed clear of your furious shoveling. “But you don’t have to, I would have.”
“You were sleeping.”
He grabbed your shoulder and you stopped and turned to him, “Why didn’t you wake me? How did you wake up before me?”
“I can’t sleep in the snow. It gets too quiet.” you said, observing your work. You were two thirds of the way done in clearing out the drive that had been entirely filled with about three feet of snow.
He was still baffled, “But why not make me do it?”
“I don’t want to be a nuisance, making you do something I can do perfectly well on my own.” you said, starting up again.
Matthew said, “But where would you need to go?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to the emergency room if you decided to wrestle a bull moose, or a mother polar bear, or a full grown caribou.” you said, stopping to count off these likely scenarios on your fingers.
Matthew sighed, “Since all those are my fault, let me do the rest.” He reached for the shovel.
But you shook your head and moved back, “No, it could be me too. I could run out of milk, or have an urge to make waffles or pancakes or something and have to go to the store. Or I could slip on ice on the back steps and break my leg. Then it would be my fault. So I’ll finish, you go back to sleep.”
“Let me help, ______.” he said sternly. Then he sighed in relief as you sighed too and your shoulders once up in determination fell.
But then you just started shoveling again, saying with a smirk, “Then go get the other shovel, Mattie.”