Garbage Lady

Apparently our waste disposal company is taking this whole Earth Day thing seriously. They usually pick up the garbage on my street in the afternoon. That schedule gives the crows time to tear our bags apart and dump the contents on the lawn. This week, I decided to wait until morning to put out the trash. It only took a year of picking up moldy bread and pungent meat for this college girl to figure that out. Well, that’s a great idea unless the sanitation workers come at 7:15 a.m.

I was racing around the house this morning trying to get everyone to school on time. “Eat your breakfast.” “Put your clothes on.” “Brush your teeth.” “Where is your book bag?” I know I sound like a broken record, but without reminders nothing would get done. I used that saying once with my 13-year-old and he said, “A broken record? What does that even mean?” (Shakes her head) It’s a damn shame.

I was making good time when I heard the garbage truck. It can’t be! I shouted to my husband for back up, “They’re here!” I ran down the stairs skipping every other step. “Move, move, move!” I grab two of the lighter bags and shouted, “Wait! Stop!” I have three kids which means we produce a lot of garbage. I could not store these bags for another week.

This isn’t exactly how I imagined my life would be when I grew up. Princesses don’t chase garbage trucks in pajamas. The gentleman hanging off the back glanced my way and smirked. I am not positive, but I think smoke came out of my ears. Luckily, the driver was a little more compassionate. He heard my cries and stopped long enough for my husband to throw the remaining two bags in the truck. Next week the bags are going out hours in advance. I don’t care if a dozen crows feast on our scraps and make a mess. It will be far less painful than running bra-less after a garbage truck.

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