Hot Garbage

It’s one of the last days of summer vacation. I can think of few things that would so eloquently capture the fleeting nature of these lazy, crazy, sticky, and sweaty few months we’ve enjoyed at the Bernard home than this:

Hot Garbage
Allow me to elaborate. 
We must contract for trash pick-up service, and guess who stuck the tiny postcard of a bill inside the back of the “to pay” folder? And guess who had no idea the bill had not been paid until it was two weeks past its deadline? And guess who realized this only after the garbage guys did not pick up her garbage on the curb, now two weeks ago? 
Yep. That would be yours truly. 
So, I called the company and they said all I need to do is send a check for the balance and the service will resume. 
But I forgot. Until Monday. Trash pick-up is Wednesday. 
Yea. They hadn’t gotten the check yet. 
Oh, and did I mention it’s been 115 degrees every day for the last week? 
When I heard the garbage truck outside on Wednesday morning, I pressed my nose against the glass, like a kid does waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve. I chanted and willed with everything in my being to the garbage collectors walking up and down the sidewalk in front of my house: “Pick up my garbage. Pick up my garbage!”
Rejection set in as I watched Garbage Guy glance to my two large, smelly, stuffed cans and yell to Garbage Truck Driver Dude: “This one? Do we get this one?” He gestured at my cans.
“Yes!” I screamed, my cries muffled against the glass. 
Just then the engine revved and inched on down the street, Garbage Guy going on to dump my neighbors’ cans. 
Thus launched the 2010 Find an Alternative Garbage Disposal Solution because I knew we were now facing another week of piled-up garbage. I knew I was facing a little-more-than-upset husband: (“Didn’t you pay them?” “Yes, but the check hasn’t cleared yet, dear.”)
I Googled the Davidson county dumpsites, only to discover the nearest one was a good twenty-minute drive from my house. I found a very close Williamson county one but couldn’t figure out a way to get in since I have Davidson county plates. I quizzed my hair dresser—who generously offered her salon’s dumpster for my use. I had one friend staking out her neighbor’s can to see if we could squeeze a few bags in Thursday night. We couldn’t. It was full. 
And then, I had a brilliant idea. The apartment complex where our church rented office space is a veritable dumpster paradise. There’s one—sometimes two—on every corner. Technically, we don’t still rent there, but I’m believing there’s a grace period for after-rental garbage dumping privileges or something like that. 
Friday, as I had a sitter with the kids (yes, this was my fun “me” day outing), I carefully loaded Hot Garbage into the back of the van. I don’t have to tell you how disgusting it was. Thankfully, I only had to drive less than five minutes down the street. I made two trips and unloaded about 10 bags of hot, stinky, grody, yucky garbage into that absolutely empty dumpster. 
What a feeling of accomplishment! I had solved the problem. I had found a workable solution. I had faced the filth and the stench. I got it done. 
Nothing like a little Hot Garbage on a sweltering August day to really motivate and energize a stay-at-home mom into action.

photo: ericortner at stock.xchng


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