A funny thing happened on the way to the trash bin
My house is about 150 yards from the trash bin where the garbage dudes pick up the goods. I’ve officially declared jihad on my stash of useless stuff and one of the first orders of business was to toss the megastack of flyfishing rags and catalogs that have accumulated over the past few years. Good lord magazines are heavy en masse. So my trash day is Wednesday (today) and the 11:00 pm hour rolls around before I finally decide that it is time to brave the fridgid winter weather and haul the garbage down to the bin. Who needs a coat in 20* weather? Not me.
Well off I go, the first 3 bags went without much fuss. On my second trip back to the house I scooped up the bag containing the magazines and catalogs laden with some other various stinkage…greasy food scraps, bottles containing various liquids, smelly diapers. Standard fare. One third of the way the bag blows open on the bottom depositing its contents on the dark frozen tundra. Curses were mumbled as I wanted to hold as much warm breath still inside my body as possible. I sprinted back to the garage and grabbed another bag, came back and rebagged the mess. This time, the new bag held up for about 10 yards before it blew out and again, deposited the formula in a path of momentum. Holding in warm breath wasn’t a concern this time. An olympic sprint back to the garage this time. Return. Rebag. Ten steps and another blowout. See the pattern here? Fortunately, the remaining bags weren’t living animals or my inner rage would’ve resulted in an arrest. As it were, the only arrest was nearly my heart as rage plus hypothermia don’t make for a quality health experience. Somehow, through a triple overbag process I made it the trash bin. It would only be fitting if the mess blows up on the garbage guy this morning and they follow s.o.p. and leave the mess laying around the trash bin for me to collect when I get home. Sweet!