Fridays are Trash Day here at Roseholme Cottage. Tam and I, bein' no more dilatory than any other girl gunbloggers and not particularly desirous of bein' the Food Messiahs of the local raccoon an' possum posse, had left the setting-out of trash until the morn.
Of course the whine and grunt of air brakes and diesel was heard early this ayem, and of course it was an all-hand-on-deck scramble to get the refuse in its heavy bins and cans around to the front, me in sandals and a coat hastily thrown over my bathrobe, hair damp and unbrushed.
What we found in front, like lost blimps moored along our narrow residential bywater, was not one, not two but three massive trash trucks, two headed one direction and one 'tother, with the crews out and...arguing? Over which crew gets to pick up our trash? W00t?
Now that right there is a work ethic!
...But I swan, if they'd've formed up inta' groups and began fingersnappin' an' hummin' riffs from West Side Story, I'd'a called it a day, 'cos it would be a Sure Sign Of The End.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
4 years ago
7 comments:
Hmpf! I was expecting one of those "and I ran out in my bathrobe and wet hair ensemble and ran smack dab into Viggo Mortensen" stories.
Poor little possum posse.
I snorted full-on at "whine and grunt of air brakes and diesel." Perfect description-- who hasn't been jolted to full awakeness by that horrid realization at one time or another? It's worse when there's litterbox leavings in the bag. Eep.
Don't know 'bout Indiana possums
(possmi?) but when we want to put
out the trash the night before a
squirt bottle of ammonia (kept under
the kitchen sink for cleaning) lets
us shoot a couple of shots into the
bag just before closing/tieing.
The bag might have had a small rip
in the side in the morning, but
nothing big, and no critter was
interested enough to spread the
stuff around. Anon, Don
They were probably showing off for the new girl on the block.
Oh, I do hope that you and Tam have an agreement on who gets to blog on what.
How's that work I wonder? First come, first serve?
I don't know if I can take a double-barrel snark cannon.
:)
tweaker
We fight paintball duels! Seriously, our focii and styles are a bit different; when there is something we both want to blog, the usual rule is she who calls it first, wins.
Doesn't always work that way; sometimes a conversation produces results that show up in both blogs. Since we've each got our own take on how the world wags how it should wag, it still works.
...How could anyone ever possibly get too much snark, anyhow?
I personally love to surf on crashing waves of dueling snarkery.
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