Friday, November 16, 2012

Garbage Day on Brown Drive



In the Slingerland household, it has historically been the husbands job (aka ‘me’) to take out the garbage and recycling on Wednesday nights.  When Thursday mornings dawn, the household wakes to the peaceful cooing of mourning doves and the rumble of the waste management vehicles (aka ‘garbage trucks’).  This narrative did not exactly happen this week.
Thursday Morning:

The mourning doves began their beautiful ‘ode to morning’ on the sill outside of our window on this fine frosty November morn.  The husband finds the gentle cooing of the doves melodic and soothing.  What a great way to wake up in the morning!


The wife is not an ornithologist, but rather an ornithophobic.  The wife does not like birds (though she does like the golden roasted varieties that come out of ovens).

“If those birds wake me up again tomorrow morning, I am going to glue their beaks shut!”

The husband chuckles at his wife’s sense of humour – what a kidder he married!

The wife’s school starts earlier then the husband’s school, which means that she is out the door earlier.  As the husband got ready, his wife kissed him goodbye, glared maliciously at the majestic dove on the sill, and left.  

The husband was knotting his tie when he heard a dragging sound.  He wondered what that noise could be.  He then heard the far off rumble of the garbage truck.  The husband looked out the window and noticed with great alarm, that the wife was dragging the garbage out to the curb.  The husband had forgotten to take out the garbage and now the wife, who was nicely dressed (and had smelled nice up to this point), was bringing the garbage out.  The husband felt bad not only because of the wife doing the husband’s job, but also because she was already running a little late.  The husband thought of ways to make it up to the wife.  He racked his brain.  He looked around and finally spied the dove on the sill.  He imagined his wife’s delighted face as he presented her with a stuffed dove in a shadow box or something.  The dove seemed to sense the change of mood and flew off.


The husband’s attention turned to the plight at the end of the driveway.  The wife had put the garbage in place, but was now staring at something at the end of our driveway.  During the night, the wind had blown the neighbour’s garbage bags over to our driveway and were now blocking the wife’s way out.  The husband briefly reflected that maybe it was blessing in disguise that he forgot to put the garbage out seeing as how the wind wreaked havoc on the neighbours’ garbage.

The husband probably should have run out to help clear the garbage bags from the end of the driveway, but he was paralyzed with suspense.  What would the wife do?  

The wife turned and headed back to her car with a determined look on her face.  The husband had seen that determined look many times before.  Her car roared to life and the headlights flamed brightly.  The husband held his breath as he watched the wife rocket out of the driveway.  The garbage bags put up no resistance as the car backed over them and plowed them out of the way.  The husband noticed that one of the bags was flattened like a pannekoek and the other one was caught in her front wheel-well.  


The husband could almost see his wife’s slender foot stamp the gas pedal to the floor.  The venerable car shot forward like an Atlas missile.  The garbage bag stayed with the tire for a couple of revolutions and then was discharged into the air.  It flew from the car and came to rest on the curb (albeit quite a ways away from the intended place on the curb).  After the cloud of exhaust smoke cleared and the wife’s green machine careened out of sight, all was as it should be in the peaceful neighbourhood.

Epilogue

Moments later, the garbage truck lumbered up to the curb and the garbage collectors retrieved all of bags and emptied the various receptacles.  The dove, who had been watching all of the proceedings in open-beaked awe, resumed his melodious cooing.

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