The Dump

Last Saturday, I went to the dump.  We don't have trash removal here in the Hollow, so what that means is, you accumulate your garbage in a place (the garage) where it will be free from animals/rodents and then load it all up "nice nice" and off you go to the dump.

It sounds simple enough and usually it is.  At least I've never incurred a problem before.  I went out to the garage and loaded up the boxes, bags, plastic recyclables and lastly the newspapers into the back of my Wrangler and hit the garage door button.  I remember thinking to myself, "I hope I don't run in to anyone I know" because I still had on my hiking boots, my wind pants, a navy polartec and my bright orange vest.  Typically that's what I wear when I walk the dogs and I hadn't had a chance to change since after our walk, I had taken down the outside wreaths and swags, deciding that it was "time". 

So, my first adventure...I mean really how many could there be?...I'm heading to the dump...was when I saw ahead of me that flock of turkeys.  They apparently had decided to cross the road.  I stopped and watched them as they crossed the road, taking their sweet old time.  I counted nineteen and thought how cute they looked strutting along off into the deep woods.

Over the railroad tracks and paralleling the creek which was flowing pretty good I thought.  Then as always, I stopped at the stop sign and up the steep grade to cross the railroad tracks once again and voila, I'm at the dump.

I pulled all the way down and around so my truck is heading out, shut off the ignition and got out.  I tackled the plastics first, unscrewing all the caps as instructed.  For some reason, I'm always afraid, I'll drop in one of the little caps.  Then what?  Does that mean I have to go in after it?  

It was the newspapers next and then the garbage.  I grabbed hold of the first bag and since it was light enough, I was able to simply fling it over the top.  Then the next bag needed two hands and up and over it went.  Then the third bag, which was the heaviest.  Carrying it to the bin was easy.  It was getting it up and over the side that was a little hairy.  But I managed.

I noticed a small pick-up truck pull in.  He pulled in facing me but didn't get out of the truck.  When I was all done, I walked back to the Jeep, climbed in and reached for the keys.  The keys..."where are the keys?"  I climbed out and began searching all my pockets.  No...not in my pants pockets.  No...not in the vest's front pockets.  No...not in the vest's side pockets.  I climbed back into the Jeep.  Not on the front seat.  Not on the passenger seat.  Not on the dash.  Not on the floor.  Not in the console cups holders.  I shuddered to think it, but did anyway..."Don't even tell me!"

I got out of the truck and thought "now what do I do?"  Did I have them in my hands while I was doing the trash?  It was about then that I thought, "I couldn't have, could I?"

Well, now this is a no brainer!  I couldn't move the Wrangler closer to the dumpster in order to use it to climb on so I could go dumpster diving...YUCK!!!!...because I didn't have the keys to start it nor was I strong enough to push it alone.

What made me decide that the small pick-up was safe, I really don't know.  I think it was the little bubble light on the roof.  I walked over and as I got closer to the window, I saw the man had his hands full of money!  He was counting it, I think.  He kept in right in plain sight while I was standing there.  It would have been so easy for someone to rob him which is so scary...especially nowadays!!!  I told him that I'd lost my keys and that I thought I may have tossed them into the dumpster by mistake.  He smiled.

He offered to hoist me up by giving me a leg up.  For some reason, I decided to decline.  Instead I managed to get onto a piece jutting out from the side and climb in!  YUCK! EEEEEWWWWWW !  At the age of 63, I can finally say "I climbed in a dumpster!"  Thank goodness, there wasn't much trash in the bin.  For that, I was grateful.  Only about fifteen bags.  And the bags I had thrown in were all on the right side.  Moving them around and over was easy enough.  There they were...my keys!!!!

Yep.  I was in...but now how the heck was I going to get out?  Thank goodness that Edson (the man with the bubble on his roof and my new friend) had a ladder in the back of his truck!  Heaven only knows why he didn't think of it when I was climbing in, but I sure am grateful that he thought of it for me to climb out!

There's a  lesson here:  Pockets are there for a reason!