In general, the art
of government consists of taking as much money as possible from one
party of the citizens to give to the other . Voltaire (1764)
Good Trashy Tuesday to you.
Hope all of your trash is getting picked up regularly. You know I am
big on recycling. I really like the idea as I hope you do also. But I
have to admit that my beloved Solid Waste Agency or whatever, keeps
confounding me. Let's look at plastics. The city's manual states
“Containers with
numbers 1-7 (water
bottles, milk jugs, shampoo bottles...)”. It
goes on “Plastic bags or film plastic can be taken to your local
grocery store for recycling. Styrofoam
goes in the garbage.” With
that stated, I ran across a situation where I had a piece of plastic
with a #4 on it. It wasn't a “container” it was basically flat.
Where does it go? I haven't found the right answer yet but I recycled
it anyway. I don't understand why they have these qualifiers in the
rule. Do you take #1 through #7 plastic or not? The shape or use of
the plastic shouldn't matter. On yet another trashy note, a friend of
mine told me Sunday that their whole street had stickers on the trash
containers and were not picked up because they were sitting on a pile
of snow. I don't get it. These trucks all have hoists that pick up
the container, dump it and put it down. All the time the driver sits
on his seat. Ridiculous rule. Plus, why not dump the garbage and put
a sticker on it. You are there anyway and you had to get out of the
truck to sticker it. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
Enough
of that for today. You have probably been following the news reports
on the flu for this winter. Apparently, the shot that I got only
protects me from 60% of the viruses. Not very good odds against
getting the flu. On occasion when we shop, I have used those germ
killing wipes you see at the entrance in stores. Now, I don't know if
these really do what they state they will do but I assume they will.
My problem is the method of dispensing these things. No matter how I
try, I can't get just one of those sheets. I get two, three or more.
I don't know where these wipes have been, who has touched them or
anything but when I get multiples, I must use a second hand to
separate either the whole group that came out or a single wipe,
leaving the rest to dangle. Should I push the extras back in? Does
that compromise the effectiveness of the next wipe that is extracted
by the next customer? I just don't know. I do know that both of my
hands are now wet with whatever the liquid is on the wipe. Am I
harming my skin? Inquiring minds (mine) wanted to know so off to
Customer Service I go with my cart dripping droplets on the floor as
I go. You see these wipes are very, very moist. The very nice
customer service person listened to my question, politely excused
herself, and went into the back room. Unfortunately, I could still
hear her laughing her head off. After a couple of minutes, she
returned her face beet red. She apologized for having to leave and
proceeded to explain to me in a VERY professional way that these
sanitizer stations are a contracted service and they (the store) have
very little information about them. She offered an 800 number but I
declined but I did ask for a paper towel or Kleenex to wipe hands
off.
Over
the weekend we had a substitute paper person. This person delivered
the Gazette onto my sidewalk. Not in the box next to the door labeled
“Gazette”. My regular person has gotten trained to always put the
paper in the box. It is super easy to get the paper regardless of the
weather outside. But these substitutes just don't care I guess. I
must give you a little background on my early morning activity. I
awake (I'm always pleased when this happens). I stretch a bit but not
too much, get up and put on my comfy shorts and a t-shirt. I usually
check out the bathroom to make certain I don't have any water
dripping. I next make up my French Roast in my French Coffee Press. I
put my glasses on and trudge to the front door. Keep in mind that all
of this has been scripted over my 67 years so I am not fully
conscious yet. On Sunday, I opened the door, lifted the lid on the
box, put my hand in and guess what – no paper. Shoot, I said to
myself. I turned the light on and could see the paper laying at the
edge of the sidewalk next to the grass and a snow drift. In my foggy
mind, I reasoned that it is about 3 steps out and 3 steps back and
shouldn't be too bad with bare feet. I did note that the cement
looked wet and I remembered it was supposed to rain during the night.
Kinnick, Jenny the elders Yellow Lab had stayed overnight and he was
standing behind me. I paused a moment, preparing for the cold jolt to
my bare feet. I may have uttered
a mild expletive also. I bolt out the door, oh, ah, oh, ah, cold,
cold, ICE! The recognition of there being ice on the cement came to
me as I started to lean over and pick up the paper. All at once I am
doing some type of dance that I don't think has a name and really, I
can't describe it. At the end of the impromptu dance, I fell. Being
the ex-athlete that I am, I instinctively rolled slightly so I would
land on my side, primarily on my forearm, hip and knee.
When all
motion had ceased, I took a quick inventory of my body parts to see -
1.
Where
the pain was, and 2. Do
my extremities still function? It was at this time I realized that my
feet had ended up in the snow bank. My feet got very cold, very fast.
I let
out a VERY loud yell with a variety of, yes, curse words. Loud enough
for the neighbors to hear. As I laid there waiting for my current
wife to come and see what was going on, I got colder and colder.
After what seemed like an hour or so, I decided no one was coming to
help so I made
a couple of swipes at the d***ned newspaper, got myself upright and
tried to answer the question, How do I get back? Quickly because
I was freezing,
I decided that the basic heel to toe method should be the safest. I
reached the door, opened it and got inside. My feet were REALLY cold
and I was shivering. Finally, inside and safe, I took a more thorough
examination of my fall. I had scrapped my elbow with the area around
it bruising already. My right hip was soaked but didn't really hurt,
my knee was bruised a little and my feet were frozen. Whew! Nothing
broken. I then looked up and staring at me with what I can only say
was a “You Idiot” look on his face was Kinnick. I really had to
agree with him. Later, Sue, my current wife came out of the mom cave
for some air. I asked her if she heard me yelling and her reply was
“uh, no didn't hear a thing”. I may have frozen to death had I
been unable to get up. Oh by the way, there was nothing in the paper
of value or newsy.
I
made a second pot of French Roast and drank it. It does tend to have
a numbing effect on me especially when I get into the second pot. It
is a shame we don't have a bandage for wounded
pride. I did put an ice pack on my head because I felt it had swelled
with over confidence and I needed to reduce the swelling. Humbly, I
was still able to perform my weekly A/V duties at church no worse for
the wear. Remember last week I spoke about not knowing how to be 67.
Well, this is what happens when you don't know these things.
My
current wife had her wedding anniversary yesterday. Number 47 I
think. I celebrated with her. Well, it wasn't
so much a celebration as
it was a card exchange and the presentation of the annual potted
plant. She
went to Iowa City twice and I went to the gym once. I wonder what
number 48 will be like? That's just how we roll. Have a great day and
better tomorrow, my friends. Happy Valentines Day to all. Enjoy. TA!
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