The sound of a screaming dinosaur every Monday morning means my taxes are being used. The trash truck arrives and as they have for the past year remove my discarded items. For months in rain and 3 foot snows, they plow down the alley and empty 5 trash cans and what ever else I can pile up into the gaping mouth of their heavy metal machine then tossing the cans back into their area, they move on.
These are my heroes.
Each week I wonder if they will not arrive or if there is too much stuff piled up for them to take.
Furniture, boxes, bags, clothing, paper, wood, wall boards stuffed into whatever will fit for a week, then Monday rolls around again and it all disappears.
Since Sunday’s are like Tuesdays and Wednesday is like Saturday, the one-day that makes my week is Monday. Trash day!
And this Monday was recycling day also. And Tuesday is street cleaning day. So there are lines of these huge heavy metal machines rolling through the neighborhood. Oh how exciting this afternoon to watch a parade of these monsters sweeping the street with swirling brushes and then washing it down with powerful water jets.
But then again, every day is full of excitement when you live alone.