Recycling Day Disaster

It was a calm and misty afternoon when I made the decision to put the recycling out a day early, a decision that I would regret that very next morning.  After a night of extreme wind, this morning I got “the call” that made my heart sink.  My husband informed me that my extremely full to bursting recycling bin had indeed tipped over and that our recycling was now spread over the entire neighbourhood, decorating our street with milk bottles, tins and cereal boxes.  Spread so far in fact, that he suggested walking to pick it up may not be a smart idea, he said that I should probably drive and just stop and pick up the rubbish along the way.  Now, I know how much recycling I stuffed into that bin.  In fact there was over six weeks of recycling in there the potential for disaster was enormous.  In my mind I saw two tons of rubbish littered over the entire street. 

Let me give you a background, we live in a lifestyle rural area which is pretty new.  When we first moved here and I saw the rubbish truck driving past, I’d scream and run for the rubbish bag.  At full tilt I would sprint down our 120 meter driveway, bathrobe flying in the wind, making me feel like a super hero saving the world.  I would dump the rubbish bag on the roadside and raise my arms in triumph, the race won.  I would then see the rubbish truck zooming towards me with the driver laughing at the loopy lady in her bathrobe, hair sticking straight up, arms held up in victory.  To which I would smile and wave and inconspicuously walk back up my driveway.

Well time has moved on, houses have been built the rubbish truck now takes a lot longer.  I can now take a gentle stroll down the driveway, listening to the birds sing, place my rubbish at the curb and stroll back without being laughed at (well, that I know of).  Lately I have ended up missing the truck altogether and alas have ended up with a garage full of rubbish and recycling.  In my defence the recycling truck comes very early and Friday does sneak up on me, especially in the school holidays.  So last night I made the decision to be super organised and pop the recycling out early.  Great plan, it was a still yet drizzly evening, perfect conditions.  Only half way through the night, I was awoken with gale force winds slamming into the house.  In my cosy state, I didn’t think about the recycling bin innocently sitting at the curb, being bashed around by the wind.  Although, no matter how crazy I am, I’m not sure I would have been willing to go all the way down our driveway in the dark and cold to rectify the situation. 

So this morning when I got the call, there was nothing else for me to do but go and sort out the mess.  I made that crucial decision to get out of my Pyjamas and get my track pants on.  Now I didn’t really want to, because I’m lazy and was about to shower anyway, but I considered my husband’s call and calculated how far from our driveway I would have to venture to get said recycling.  The general rule is; being seen in your PJ’s and robe in and around your own driveway is acceptable (well at least to me, even though our driveway is super long).  But once you get a certain distance away from your gate and you are still in your PJ’s, you start looking like a crazy lady who escaped her padded room.  Much like the togs, togs, togs… undies debate (once you get a certain distance from the beach togs then turn into undies).  Once I got to the road front I realised my decision was indeed correct.  Rubbish had flown over 400 meters away. 

It’s one of those times I cursed being a grown up, dam it having to deal with consequences of my actions.  Each time I tried to push the recycling back into the bin more would fly away in the gale force winds.  Eventually after a lot of wondering and picking up rubbish I captured it all (well 90% of it, I didn’t have my hiking boots on to get the rest).  And thanks to the wind calming down a bit the recycling truck got there before it got blown over again.  Whoop, whoop for me.

Being the good Samaritan I am, once I had dropped the kids off I went for the 800meter hike to pick up the 10% I had missed, only to get there and realise it wasn’t MINE! Yes, I still picked it up, but I grumbled all the way home as I was frozen by the icy wind.

So when you are on your way to work, dressed in your nice work clothes, don’t laugh at the crazy lady in her PJ’s scavenging for rubbish along the street.  It very well could be you one day.  Have a lovely day.