Triumph Over Trash

Well, hello! Goodness does homeownership suck up a lot of time! You buy one, blink your eye, and nearly two months have passed since you've actually updated your blog. And why is that? Because there has been no time to indulge in the hobby that you so love. Yard work, more yard work, unpacking, and organizing have been the Brewmistress pastimes of late. But, I have made myself a goal to get enough "house stuff" done this week to allow another brew day next weekend. My aspirations run high.

Now what about this triumph over trash? I am glad you asked, as I can share a wee bit of knowledge recently gleaned. As an apartment dweller, one has the luxury of a dumpster at their disposal. Rain or shine, the wonderful sanitation engineer will come each and every week to haul away all of the unmentionables one has chosen to dispose of in said dumpster. The same does not hold true of a single-family residence. Portland is super environmentally concerned, and we have weekly pickups of recycling and yard waste/compost, but trash is only claimed (at most) every other week. Normally, this would be fine, as I pride myself on the small amount of refuse that I produce. However, moving seems to create an abnormal amount of garbage.

The week I moved into Clementine was a week of no trash pick up. Plus, the prior owner left her moving-out trash (with kitty litter, naturally). So I waited ever so patiently until the following week, and put out my landfillables. Imagine my surprise when I came home Friday night to find a full trash bin. So I called. The friendly customer service representative patiently listened to my complaint, and asked if she could place me on hold while she contacted the driver. I agreed, even while thinking, "right, the driver is totally going to remember MY house, and why my trash wasn't emptied". But I waited. She came back on the line and told me that she was unable to contact the driver, but made the super-helpful suggestion that "maybe my trash was not...(pause for the proper phrasing of the following) free-flowing enough".

I have anal-retentive trash. Not fly-by-the-seat-of-its-pants trash. Uncool homebody garbage that does not wish to see the wide world of a landfill.

So, I decided to test the theory that my garbage was packed too tightly into its container. I tipped the container on top of itself. AND I HEARD ALL THE TRASH FALL TO THE TOP!

Apparently, my trash is not type-A, and is plenty free-flowing. Cool trash. Adventurous trash that wants to see what the world has to offer.

I never called again, because describing this exercise would have officially made me a crazy person, and all I could hope to gain was a couple dollars. But since then, every time my trash is emptied, I do a little jig of joy while I drag the empty can back into my driveway. And I feel a sense of triumph.

Now, I promise all my house-making tales will be moved to What a Good Squirrel.From here on, I promise the Brewmistress Log shall be committed to the noble art of zymurgy.

Cheers, and have a beautiful week!