I came home from the grocery store with four bags of groceries. By the end of the week I had to hunt for four more bags to take out the remains of the original four bags. What the hey is going on? Somehow between being groceries and being trash it grew!
I have heard it said quite often how loud the trash trucks are when they come through the neighborhood. I admit all of the trash trucks sound as if they need mufflers, the neighborhood dogs are barking, the cans are being tossed around, there is the constant beeping, belching, and other sounds I don’t want to know the source of, and it’s always so cotton-picking early! But to me, it’s a sweeter sound than Julie Andrews sounding off from the Alps. The hills are truly alive with the sound of garbage pick-up.
I have several neighbors who take it upon themselves to haul off their household weekly refuse. Far be it from me to propose any other solution to such hardy pioneers. But as for me and my house we will serve the trash truck, and God bless them, every one. When I hear that familiar sound on Thursday mornings, I know I can once again fill up that big box and get some more well used refuse out of my house.
When I was growing up the trash truck came twice a week. The men went behind our house and literally picked up the two metal trash cans and carried them to the truck. Then they brought the empty cans back and placed them again at the back of the house. Nowadays our cans are plastic, with wheels, and it’s my job to push it to the street and position it correctly so the jaws of the massive trash truck can grab it, lift it, empty it, then set it back down, normally right in the middle of my driveway. I am forced to get out there and push it back to the house or forever be trapped at home.
Now far be it from me to be against progress, but when my biceps are bigger than the trash man’s, when a 95 pound trash truck driver can do the work of two hefty men, when we have to store a week’s worth of trash in our house and make sure against all odds that the can gets to the street on time, or it gets left behind, and last but not least we have the joy and obligation to pay for this once free privilege, it’s pretty obvious to me the lord will soon be returning.
I’ll be right back.
You can reach Joe Lee at firstname.lastname@example.org.