The Scouring of the Shire

In my small town, every Friday is like spring. Here’s why: on Thursday evening, we all set out our garbage to be picked-up during the wee hours of Friday morning. All the citizens disgorge their homes of sundry unwanted items, refuse and garbage. We set these things out at the curb as offerings for the gods of garbage. As the good folk of the town sleep, the garbage men descend upon the city to relieve the people of their burdens for another week.

I am amazed at the symbiotic underground economy that garbage day has created. It is an unwritten rule that we all place our detritus outside by dinner time, especially during the summer. Because in the evening hours, a new species of entrepreneurs scour the city looking for all manner of “stuff” – these are the junk men. They look for anything that may be recycled or reused. Now, I get the recycling part, but some of these people are really in need of help. Some junk men find items for their homes or (I cannot prove this but my spider-sense tells me it is so) to resell at yard sales and flea markets (I must admit that I have this illness in my family. I have seen items that have been proudly displayed as being found in dumpsters. This is a sickness that needs some kind of support group.)

There are several classes of junk men. There are the ones who spy a juicy prize, pull over and wipe off the spaghetti sauce, and place it in their truck. They will do their best to keep from disturbing the garbage pile. Another kind will see something they want and wrestle it from the pile of debris and place it on their truck, leaving a disheveled mess in their wake. This is so annoying. Some of us work hard at leaving our trash in such a way that the high priests of garbage can easily gather the sacrifices left for them. I don’t appreciate having to rake up coffee filters, spent packages of soy sauce, and ketchup covered corndog sticks.

And then there are those who come to your door and ask you before they take your items. These are the namby-pamby socialists. No capitalist would be that polite or thoughtful. I mean, the stuff is out at the curb for the trash. Do I need to give permission before you take it? If I wanted to keep it, it would still be in my basement growing mold! Do I expect the garbage men to knock on my door at 0 dark 30 and ask permission to collect my garbage? Just take it, for crying out loud.

I love garbage day and the cleansing it provides. It is cathartic when you see junk from your house hauled away. However, I have learned that there are some things that neither the garbage men nor the junk men will take. Here is a brief list of forbidden items:

• Anything heavier than 1 man can lift – yet most of that junk I hauled out of the basement by myself. It can be done. You just need to swear a lot.

• Branches or shrubs that are not tied together. Like I’m going to take the time to neatly organize my branches and tie them together. Hey, if I’m going to do that much work, I’m going to find some heretic to burn at the stake. Why not? The hard part’s done.

• Pets – Oh, come on. Like you haven’t ever thought about this.

• A 1986 Pontiac Fiero

• Paint cans – here’s the exception: lids must be off and the paint must be dried hard. Why would I set paint out that is usable? Some brain surgeon always fails to close the paint cans tightly so they always dry…, Oh, wait, that was me…Never mind.

• Children, either mine or the neighbors. I guess there is some lame city ordinance about that.