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Why the Bruins shouldn’t apologize for laughing their way to Stanley Cup Final

COMMENTARY

Last time it snowed, I had two options; Wait for my plow guy so that I might be able to escape via the long, winding driveway that leads from my home to the main road, or laboriously bulldoze a navigable path to freedom by myself with the aid of a shovel and four-wheel drive.

It was about an hour later when I had pulled a muscle in my back, left a plume of gas fumes hovering over my property from repeatedly revving the engine, and had to recruit help from a neighbor when I encountered a wall of snow at the intersection of the road and driveway, courtesy of the local DPW.