Rituals...

Rituals

Have you even wondered just how much rituals control our lives?

My life certainly is. I awoke this morning and was snuggling in my bed. It was warm and pleasant and I was just luxuriating in the moment. Suddenly I sat upright.

"Crap!!!!" I shouted as I bolted out of bed, grabbing my robe and a pair of shoes.

It was garbage day!

As I ran, I tried to put the shoes on, hopping on one foot and crashing into walls and furniture.

I made it to the garage and pressed the door opener. My rushing dramatically stopped. Cautiously I peered out... looking one way and then the other. I had to get the garbage out before anyone SAW me. An extra week with stinking garbage a lessor threat than being seen without make-up.

In my community refuse pick up comes once a week but although it is a necessity of life, it must always be discrete. It is a fact of life that must never be discussed or worse, seen. Garbage must "appear" on the morning of pickup.

In the old days, it was just garbage. It was relatively easy, everything went into one big can. No problem. It was a weekly chore that I was up to, that I could handle. Now, as if lives are not complicated enough, it must be sorted. We recycle.

As a recycle novice I had much to learn. As in all things there are rules.

The first day I put out styrofoam... a faux pax! Styrofoam is never recycled. There is no technology to do so and probably never will be. It is one of those great human creations which has come back to bite us. Styrofoam has a half shelf life of a billion years... that and cockroaches will be around long after humans are forgotten.

My refuse engineer (formerly garbage man) carefully removed the styrofoam packing material that I had placed into the recycle container, placing it on the ground. And then left it.

There are more rules... recycles can't be dirty. Tin cans, bottles need to be clean... washed of all residue. I now spend much of my time washing garbage. Oh I do miss the old days!

There are plastics and papers too. It gives a person a headache... and yes medicines are considered toxic waste and must be sent to special collection centers. Remember when you could happily flush toxic materials and dead goldfish down the toilet with no remorse.

Recycle bins now take up more room than do garbage bins. You need a "staff" and a "dayplanner" to manage it all. For me recycle pick-up comes at 6:30 am (5:30 in summer) and garbage at 9 am. If you are off by one minute you are out of luck.

I have been forced to write myself a note to remember garbage day. My memory was the second thing to go... the first was my waistline. It is a large note, one that can be seen from space. I put it on my kitchen counter in the hopes I can't miss it. Yet I can.

Since refuse containers are not permitted on our street curbs in daylight, we are forced to do so in the dark hours. In the dark hours, I am zombie like... a sleep deprived coma-like state I'm often in. Just ask my cats. So I must put the note out at a time when I can both see and remember it.

Fortunately  I can ignore anything. A quick look at my housekeeping would attest to this. I can walk by, cook a meal by and do dishes (ha, ha) by and never see it. Even if it jumped out and poked me... I could ignore it. I was married for years and learned from the best.

My cats are useless at helping... only if it involves food do they remind me of anything.

I am often forced to react as today, with shear terror at missing the week's pick-up. I am forced to perform this weekly ritual in my night gown and robe. I really do need to update my wardrobe.

It is said that man has come a long, long way... I just wish it was shorter to the curb.