Trash Day

Today is Monday. That is trash day. Remember to put out the recycle bin also.

At 9AM the monster truck will stop in the alley, dump my leftovers, and those wonderful people who do that every week will slowly roll down to the next house then stop and repeat the process until the truck is full.

Where is goes doesn’t matter to me as long as it is far enough away that I don’t have to see or smell it.

 

That is what we do with our trash.

Everywhere we go there is a wire container accepting our waste rather than just toss it. Then someone is assigned to take the trash out back to a larger container so it will not be there tomorrow.

We can produce trash, mounds of it.

As long as it is out of view, we can sit quietly on the couch, eating and binging and making more trash.

Hide it behind the mountain, stick it in a hole, cover it up with dirt, park it in the dessert, or sink it in the water.

Perfect, as long as no one can see it.

Archeologist will dig it up later and put it in museums. Trash is our cultural history.

The rest of it will just rot, out of sight and out of mind.

 

Until that Monday when the big trucks followed by two black men in yellow vest don’t arrive.

Where will we put our broken down car or flat tires or yesterdays electronics or last year’s appliance model or former war surplus or abandoned property or grandma?