So, I was walking Jonah (the dog) yesterday morning when I saw IT. What is "it"? Well, "It" is the trash truck. My friendly, neighborhood trash guys come EVERY Monday and EVERY Thursday! And can I EVER remember that is Monday or Thursday?
No. I can not. Thank you for asking.
So, the dog is meandering along, and BAM, there is the truck. Four houses away. AHHH! My trash bin is FULL. (We're moving!)
"Jonah!" I say with great urgency. "Come on, we've got to go home!" I had no phone otherwise I would have called Derek and told him to haul the bin to the curb. NO PHONE!
"JONAH! COME!" I yell as I tug on the leash. Jonah is no pixie. He's 88lbs of pure muscle and fat. He is very amiable and pretty obedient. I tugged and tugged, and he wouldn't budge. Weird. Unlike him. What what going on? GAH!
Jonah had decided right then and there to do his business. The dog, it should also be noted has very LARGE bladder. This was taking too long. I am jumping up and down and whining at this point. "Hurry! HURRY! JONAH! COME....ON!" He finally finishes his business, wondering what in the world all the fuss was about anyway. I was grateful he decided to forgo any OTHER bathrooming (if you get my drift) because I did not have time to clean it up and don't want to be seen as a negligent pet-owner.
I drag him down the street, running like the wind (in my church shoes no less. No it was not Sunday, but they were still sitting by the door when I needed shoes to walk the dog... stay with me.) Poor puppy is wondering what is going on because his walk has been cut short.
I barrel into the house like a mad woman, fling the lease toward Derek and run to the garage where the trash bin lives. Henry is asking (as he does every time I return from a walk with the dog) "Did he poop?"
"NO!" I yell. "NO TIME! THE TRASH TRUCK IS COOOOMMMMMMMING!"
I pound the garage door opening button, and hurdle my way toward the bin. It's trapped behind two strollers and a bike. ARG!
I wrestle it free. I can hear the hydraulics of the trash truck ambling closer...closer. I can not miss this! I have SO MUCH TRASH! (We're moving!)
The bin is HEAVY! I bump and thump it down the driveway (thankfully our drive is DOWNHILL) and kick it to the curb. Just.in.time. I can, of course, wave happily to the trash men, and they laugh at me, as they are wont to do, because this happens two times a week. TWICE A WEEK!
The dog's walk was then reinstated, much to his thankfulness.
Trash days are stressful. Didjyaknow that?
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3 comments:
twice a week? Wow that's frequent! I would totally forget too. Casey is in charge of taking out the bins and he always forgets (it comes friday mornings) and so I tease him that he likes to "Jason Bourne" it on Friday mornings. I think he enjoys the thrill.
I wish I could see this on film. Then again, your description was perfect...I can just picture it all :-)
Trash day IS stressful! Missed ours this morning, even though John called to remind me...I was sitting on the couch with John when I heard them driving down the street. Jumped up and ran out in my pjs, hoping they were just coming...but no, they were going. And now we have a full trash can and a week to wait. Sigh.
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