So ya'll know we moved in our new house this summer. I gotta tell you- one of the BEST parts is that we live next to my parents. I know, it could be scary, but really, it's a good thing. Even Steve will tell you that. But one of the BEST parts about that is Daddy takes off our trash.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with such rural traditions, we have to load up our own trash and recyclables and take them to the nearest collection station. You could pay out the wa-zoo and have the big garbage truck come by, but we don't want that bill.
When I was a kid, we just had a burn barrel. Stay with me...we took all our trash, put it in a big metal drum out back and burnt it. Sounds crazy, but I was about 10 before I realized that not everyone did this. The dump (as we call the trash collection place) was where you took things that did not fit into the burn barrel and occasionally scored something to take home. No lie. I remember getting a table from the dump that I used for years and years. I finally took it to Goodwill this summer when we moved.
Now, the dump is closely monitored and you have to play by the rules. No scavenging and no putting any and everything into the trash compactor. They have little stations for everything from magazines to colored glass.
So as I was saying, Daddy comes and gets our trash about once a week which is great, in my opinion, because Steve absolutely sucks at taking off the trash. If left up to him, once a month is perfectly acceptable. But then he has the nerve to be offended that Daddy takes over this job for him. He should be glad b/c that's one less thing for me to gripe about and one less thing for him to do. If he wants to get offended, he needs to hang out in the garage when the trash has NOT been taken out for a month.
