My reward for my sprint
My life (and yours, no doubt) is just a long chain of moments that are often similar at first glance. I’ll hold for “they are all unique”, but that’s philisophy. Let’s stay with the reality. Yes, I know, we have too much garbage. I am old enough to remember a “burn box” across the road. And the endless fires, with smoke and seagulls, near theharbour. A past abberration.
Now, we have trucks that come and take things away (to endless fires with seagulls). And our civic duty is to get our bags out to the road at the right moment. The main volume, every two weeks. The valualble stuff, once a month. To be stored in your home until the proper moment. We were filling up, after missing a couple of stops. Today, it had to go. And of course, nothing is easy, what with winter. If you put the bags out, and it snows, and then the plow hides them; that’s your problem. The guy on the truc doesn’t dig for buried treasures. With a heavy snowfall, overnight, I had to wait for the lane to be cleard before dragging a half-dozen sacks outside.
And I made it, with seconds to spare. Literally, seconds. I closed the garage door just as the binmobile halted. Pure good fortune. No need to drag the pile back inside, or go off with a shovel and an eye for basic blue. I am proud, and I rewarded my sprint with the sort of reward that goes with being retired.A nap. The sound of a delivery van outside was just a first offering to the next recycle day. A big box, containing more snowshoes. That’ a whole different tale.
Now that we are in a declared state of civic emergency, I’m waiting to learn what that actually entails. I am not feeling the crisis, but somewhere, someplace, there are unhappy campers. In AB, one group has been ordered to “stand firm. Help is coming from the south”. Not sure if my dog whistel hearing read that one with the intended tone.
