A WORD ABOUT JUNKING ...
Yesterday, I started noticing something in my neighborhood. Mounds and mounds of JUNK. Yep, it's that time of year ... that yearly ritual we like to call GARBAGE PICK UP DAY.
YIPPPEEEE!!!!
For as long as I can remember, my town has been sponsoring a Garbage Pick Up Day. You can toss anything off of the "approved list of junk to be tossed" onto your boulevard where, at the appointed time, a fleet of BFI trucks will come through and rid you of your unwanted items.
I must admit that I was a little excited when I realized it was time, because I've started a pile of approved crap to be tossed myself, and I've been itching to get it out of my garage.
Top on the list was an old patio glider I inherited when I moved into this house. It was very cool and retro, but it needed a lot of TLC ... in the form of cash money. With the lack of a steady job, I was not in the position to provide it with it's needed TLC (in the form of cash money). So, I made the very difficult decision to put it ON THE PILE.
My dad came over this afternoon to help me move it out there.
Now, one thing that is ALWAYS entertaining is watching the junkers come and pick through your junk. As kids, we were just fascinated by what people would take from our pile that our parents thought was worthless. My sister and I would sit on the sofa and watch the action. Much of it would be picked off the pile minutes after mom or dad set it there. As we got older and could tell time (and understood the wagering of bets), we would try to see who could come the closest to guessing how long an item would stay on the pile! It was great fun!
As an adult, it became a sort of validation of your junk. If something you thought a picker would think valuable actually sat on the pile until Garbage Pick Up Day, it almost felt like an affront. To have something picked off the pile minutes after it had been placed there was, and still is, the highest form of flattery!
As my dad and I were positioning the glider on the boulevard, a neighbor of mine passed by in his mini-van, slowing down as he did so.
"I give it twenty minutes," I said to my dad.
"Oh, I don't know. I would give it a day, maybe."
Dad climbed into his truck, and I walked into the house. As I passed by the microwave, I made a mental note of the time ... 2:51.
The phone rang about that time, and I ran to grab it. However, I was stopped in mid-run by the doorbell.
"Is that glider free to take?" the freckle-faced red-head standing on my porch asked as I whipped open my front door.
"Yep! It's yours." I said, smiling back.
My neighbor from up the street got out of his mini-van, and he and his son loaded it in.
The glider was gone in under ten minutes! MY JUNK IS POPULAR!
Now, if you will excuse me, I have more stuff to put out on the curb ...
YIPPPEEEE!!!!
For as long as I can remember, my town has been sponsoring a Garbage Pick Up Day. You can toss anything off of the "approved list of junk to be tossed" onto your boulevard where, at the appointed time, a fleet of BFI trucks will come through and rid you of your unwanted items.
I must admit that I was a little excited when I realized it was time, because I've started a pile of approved crap to be tossed myself, and I've been itching to get it out of my garage.
Top on the list was an old patio glider I inherited when I moved into this house. It was very cool and retro, but it needed a lot of TLC ... in the form of cash money. With the lack of a steady job, I was not in the position to provide it with it's needed TLC (in the form of cash money). So, I made the very difficult decision to put it ON THE PILE.
My dad came over this afternoon to help me move it out there.
Now, one thing that is ALWAYS entertaining is watching the junkers come and pick through your junk. As kids, we were just fascinated by what people would take from our pile that our parents thought was worthless. My sister and I would sit on the sofa and watch the action. Much of it would be picked off the pile minutes after mom or dad set it there. As we got older and could tell time (and understood the wagering of bets), we would try to see who could come the closest to guessing how long an item would stay on the pile! It was great fun!
As an adult, it became a sort of validation of your junk. If something you thought a picker would think valuable actually sat on the pile until Garbage Pick Up Day, it almost felt like an affront. To have something picked off the pile minutes after it had been placed there was, and still is, the highest form of flattery!
As my dad and I were positioning the glider on the boulevard, a neighbor of mine passed by in his mini-van, slowing down as he did so.
"I give it twenty minutes," I said to my dad.
"Oh, I don't know. I would give it a day, maybe."
Dad climbed into his truck, and I walked into the house. As I passed by the microwave, I made a mental note of the time ... 2:51.
The phone rang about that time, and I ran to grab it. However, I was stopped in mid-run by the doorbell.
"Is that glider free to take?" the freckle-faced red-head standing on my porch asked as I whipped open my front door.
"Yep! It's yours." I said, smiling back.
My neighbor from up the street got out of his mini-van, and he and his son loaded it in.
The glider was gone in under ten minutes! MY JUNK IS POPULAR!
Now, if you will excuse me, I have more stuff to put out on the curb ...
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