I am convinced that I have become the Wednesday morning spectacle in our neighborhood. Wednesday morning is “garbage day”. And for some strange reason, I always have difficulty with this task. It’s not because of the “work” involved; it’s because of the smells.
I kid you not – I am convinced that I probably have one of the weakest gag reflexes in the entire Chicagoland area. The Wednesday “show” takes place every week around the same time. As if the curtains are rising, the garage opens, and so begins the “Scott Hodge Entertainment Hour”.
The problem occurs when something has gone bad in the garbage. Today, it smelled as though a 4 day old dead rabbit had been cuddled up next to a week old lasagna (ok, that’s sick).
Next, I pull the garbage bag out of the plastic bin and run as fast as I can out of the garage to catch a breath of fresh air. With my eyes watering and my stomach trying to escape my body via my mouth I look out and see a neighbor kid watching me. At least I’m pretty sure it was a kid. It was hard to see with my eyes watering so badly.
After repeating this about 4 times, I finally get the garbage down to the end of the driveway.
On my way back up, a bee decides to harass me. With sweat dripping down my face, eyes watering, I violently swat it away. “Are you ok?” says a voice in the background. It’s the kid. I just sort of wave my hand at him as if saying, “Why aren’t you in school? Get away from here...”
I would never make it as a garbage man.
Wednesday, June 9