Saturday, July 11, 2015
Today I am grateful for recycling events. I recycle as much as possible, although I’m not a fanatic. I try to do my bit and often pick up the trash some idiot has thrown on the ground. Why do people litter? My car might look like a compost heap, but it’s because I don’t litter!
A good friend told me about a huge recycling event, on Saturday, at the local library, evening sending me an email with the details. I’ve been acquiring an upstairs box of things to be shredded for a while, so I this week I dug further into the bowels of my files and ditched old insurance documents and a whole bunch of other crap that should be shredded. I still had to look through the boxes stored in the basement.
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Then I caught a bug. A bad bug. I feel like something that gets stuck on your shoe at a dog park. Ball bearings are clanging through my head. My sneezes measure on the Richter scale. I’m pretty sure I coughed out a lung, but I sucked it back in again, so I’m good now. You get the picture. Not pretty. Not fun.
But it is Saturday, so I have to dig out the rest of the recycling papers because John doesn’t have a clue what I might want to get rid of. God forbid he grab the wrong thing. God forbid he doesn’t take it all. The men out there know what I mean. He’s in a no-win position. So I drag my hacking ass to the cellar and dig through some junk. FYI - All stuff in basements is junk. Some is good junk, some is bad junk, but it’s all junk. I’m looking for bad junk.
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Voila! We have three boxes to be shredded, an old printer, an ancient fax machine and out-of-date medications. I help John load it in the back of my car. He’s off to the recycling event, I’m heading back to my chair collapse, try to breathe and wait for medications to kick in.
The phone rings. What now, I wonder, because it seems this man can never go anywhere without calling me within ten minutes of leaving. “Hi,” he says, waiting for me to stop sneezing. “I’m at the recycling event and you’re right, it’s Saturday.” I say, “Okay, good. So why are you calling?” He knows exactly how long to pause. “Next Saturday!!!!” Swell. At least we’re ready.
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