I sure get excited about trash day. Especially when I’m in bed and I can hear the truck making its way down my block. Agitated, might be a better word. I’m up, tangled in covers, tripping over a copy of Babi-Yar which I threw on the floor after it spooked me the night before. Sprinting for the barrels, out the door I go, in my tiny green boxer shorts which used to be duct taped to keep the front hole closed.
Luckily, the truck was on the other side of the street and I was delighted to find I would be in time for both trash and recycling. After I pulled my containers to the curb I became worried. My neighbors were not in sync with the duties demanded for the day. To the West, the school employees, out for summer, house full of grandkids, had obviously slept in. I peeked at their trash. It was full of diapers and bright, Walmart bulk pasteboard boxes which once held sticky sweets. I grabbed both barrels and wheeled them down. Not because I’m nice but because TRASH DAY MUST BE OBSERVED! Not like flag day which people constantly forget but like a patriotic reminder of civic responsibility which occurs weekly to rouse us from our kindles and kin.
In Paris, they have poubelles, a name which has an sweet but smelly charm of its own. The trash gets picked up daily from each building. My sister is one of the many women and men you will see outside at 7:30 am each day hauling out the poubelles. She gets a break on rent for doing this, and for bringing them back in, and cleaning up the mess which might be made in poubelle transfer. I am proud of her dedication to the poubelles.
My neighbor to The East, is a temporary resident. Aren’t we all?, you might say. I don’t own my house but the house on the East is a short term rental and the man who is in it now has a window right across from mine. He sits looking at the computer while I watch my television. I tried to see if he was watching porn but could not discern without putting on my glasses which is just a little desperate. He plays very loud Bob Seger type American music and keeps a candle burning in his open window to suck up the smell of his cigarettes. His trash was breaking the rules. It bubbled over the top and that will earn you a nasty sticker and all your stinkin’ trash back for the rest of the week. I decided to sit on the lid to squash it down. Unfortunately, the beer cans were resistant to my weight in their own crinkly way so I had to ride the barrel somewhat like a horse. My roommate came out and saw me. This was better than the neighbor. He has an iphone but he didn’t use it.
I hope you have a merry trash day, no matter where you are or what day it is.