Trash Can Giganticus

Garbage day, fast forward, garbage day, fast forward, garbage day… that was something I got from my late friend, June Share, and often repeat – as it seems truer and truer every year. I get up at six-thirty every Friday morning to pull on some clothes, jacket and hat if needed and take my tiny bundle of garbage and drop it into the tall and deep trash tub on wheels issued by the current garbage collectors. The monster bin is up to my shoulders and even though what I actually have to dispose of usually can fit into one of the small plastic bags that we all get at the grocery store, unless we bring a cloth bag from home, I listen for the plop as the bag lands at the bottom of the tub.

Many people put their trash out the night before the collectors come, but I have learned that no matter how I try to disguise the garbage, the night foragers manage to mangle the container and I have a scattered mess in the morning to deal with.

Once even a simple bag with only plastic bottles for recycling tore open due to the cold, I imagine. So there is no way to save myself any steps.

I am out there before seven a.m. since there is no way of predicting when the enormous and noisy trucks will begin rolling down the street. It could be as early as seven a.m. and that is predictable if I am dawdling along – the noise begins before I am out the door. Otherwise it may not appear until late morning or later in the day.

I recycle all that I am able to and papers/cardboard all go to the Church bins as the box in my garage fills up. I also compost as much as possible – peelings, egg shells, coffee grinds and the like, more so in the summer – I used to be better about that in the winter, but not so much anymore. Since there is not much I need to buy anymore, I rarely have much to actually throw into the trash.

A smaller (by about half a foot) dumpster is available, but the next owner of this house may want the big one, so I continue to roll the massive container down the drive to the curb every Friday before dawn. If the snows got so deep or so miserable that I could not push the tub down the drive, I would just skip that week’s collection, but somehow I managed this past winter.

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