It’s Sunday night, well, to some it might be Monday morning. Until I go to bed for the day, it’s night. Sunday makes it garbage night.
Preparing for garbage night is usually on my list of least favorite things. It means the most thorough cleaning of the kitty litter all week, emptying the trash bins all around the house, and checking the fridge for miscellaneous icky things. Yet, there’s one part of the evening that is delightful.
After taking the garbage can to the street, I enjoy the walk back to the house. (Marketing: Garbage can is the term Best Way Disposal uses. As I appreciate them, they are my authority on all things garbage & recycling.)
That walk back to the house is a time to tilt my head back, look up into the sky, and see what I can see. Tonight, it was seeing the light clouds in the dark night, along with a few stars. Sometimes it’s stars galore, and other times it is an amazing moon of any shape or size. Every time, it reminds me of my childhood when my dad and I would walk to the house from the dairy barn.
My dad was a hard-working dairy farmer, as are all farmers. He was up before the crack of dawn (which I now refer to as the crack of stupid, thanks to Betsie’s intellectual remark). My mom figured that for many years he lifted 2,000 pounds each day, not including the extra weight from bailing hay in the summer. He milked 30 plus bossy’s twice daily. He often ended up repairing equipment, enduring salesmen, or being distracted by nagging children. Yet, at the end of the long, hard day’s work, he would still take a slow walk with me to the house and point out all of the constellations. It was a treasured time as he explained about a science he respected. He would share stories about weather, about the meaning of the stars, or about how light pollution reduces our vision into the night sky.
Therefore, the end result of taking the trash to the street is a good and joyful time.
Morale of the Story: Most things in life have a benefit, no matter how disgusting the activity.