Day 3: My stalwart companion (the shovel which I have named "Mr. Bentley Harrington III") and I set out once more in search of adventure. A peaceful,soothing, light rain has begun to fall and I have enlisted my weather-proof British style driving hat to aid in the cause. The rain is a sign that the benevolent spirits of nature continue to watch over me, preventing my mortal coil from over-heating in its toil.
The spirits of nature also look after Mr. Bentley Harrington III, as their gentle rain combined with the tires of massive plow trucks (driven by my fellow men who partake in the cathartic satisfaction of physical labor, and a day's work well done) have packed the heavenly gift of snow into a thick slushy ice which overmatches Ben's (the shovel insists that I refer to him as "Ben" in casual settings, proper protocol be damned) capabilities thereby ensuring him periods of rest at times when I am forced to employ his half-brother, the spade-shovel Worthington.
I tip my hat in gratitude to the nature spirits for their assistance in conditioning my physical being, as well as my agile mind, and indomitable will.
We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us.