So. Tonight we watched "Munich." We stupidly decided at 12:30 p.m. to go and get something to drink from the machines outside Super V. Keep in mind that we had a blizzard a few days ago, and then it started snowing again earlier tonight. So, we got our little sodas and started on our way home. About a block from our house, Jim drove right into a very, very large mountain of snow. I immediately freaked out and asked him what the bleep he thought he was doing. As I said it, the car stops dead. I told him NOT to stop or we'd never get out . . .but too late. We were completely stuck. We tried in vain to get out for about 15 minutes. Jim got out to push. Nothing worked. Going 2 inches backward, then 2 inches forward, each time hitting a wall of snow was not helping anything. We started to smell the scent of burning rubber. SO . . .without a coat or hat or gloves or socks or ANYTHING sensible, Jim walked home. As I waited in the car, wearing my bathrobe and sandals, he put on socks, sweatshirt with hood, and gloves, and grabbed a shovel and a gallon jug of hot water. We think it's the hot water that saved us. After about 20 minutes of Jim digging and pouring water under the tires, I was able to reverse quite a long way and then went forward through the drift. I had to continue driving until I made my way out of a network of small hills, during which time I almost peed my pants because it was like driving in Crazy Taxi or some such game. I felt like a stunt driver in a movie. I almost hit a guy's truck parked along the road and skidded halfway in a circle before coming to rest in an area fairly sparse of snow. Jim got in, I laughed really hard, still almost peeing myself, and we came home. How's that for a fun-filled night?