Country Water Cooler

I am not going to go through the whole "sorry I haven't blogged in awhile". You guys all know by now that I suck at keeping this thing updated.

So recently I have been catching up with an old friend from home. We grew up together but have not seen each other in a long while so it's been really great getting back in touch. She still lives in my hometown and is happily married. Our families know each other and occasionally run in to one another. Today she said to me, "My mom saw your Dad at the dump".

I had totally forgotten that down in our small little South Jersey town, we have to take our own trash to "the dump". At first, before the recycling craze, it was a big hole in the ground where you dump everything from last night's dinner to that flammable paint can that has been sitting in your basement for 12 years. You just drove your car up the dirt ramp and shoved it all over the side. Now, because they are so ecologically conscience, it has different receptacles for your various pieces of trash. Brown bottles go here, green bottles go here and the paper bags go over there.

One time, I remember gathering the trash cans from our garage with my Dad. We went about once a week or so and we had about three small trash cans that needed to go. They weren't the big trash cans that maybe you and I are use to seeing our trash guys pick up. They were about half the size, cracks down the side and only one of them had a lid. Let's face it, if you don't have to pay the township for a trash can, then you can put your trash in anything that your little heart desires. So anyway, on this particular trip I noticed something moving in the trash when I picked up the can to put it in the back of the truck. As I put the trash can in the the truck a big, mean, evil, blood sucking RAT jumped the fuck outta the can and into the bed of the truck! I started to try to case him out, but Dad wanted to leave him there. He said we would "take him to the dump". Good point, that's where that little fucker belonged.

So we drove to the dump with a rat hitchhiking in the bed of the truck. After separating our recyclables, we drove up the dirt ramp and started to unload our trash. That little rat fucker stayed in the front of the truck bed, just watching us, waiting for the opportune moment to share his rabies. After we had emptied the truck of our waste, I grabbed the broom that my Dad had brought along to sweep out the bed of the truck and I started pushing the little fucker to the end of the truck bed. When I got him about half way down I was able to move to the end of the truck bed to pull him towards the end. As soon as I did that the little fucker jumped right at me! I had to dive to my left to avoid his blood sucking fangs that were coming right for my neck. The rat jumped so high, he went over the side of the truck and right into the trash hole in one single bound. There he was finally among friends. True story.

So what's the point of this story? The dump in our small town is like the water cooler of country life. People see each other and stand there to chat and catch up on the town's gossip. Among the filth and blood sucking rats. My Mom frequently says to me "I saw so and so at the dump and he asked about you" or "do you remember so and so, I saw them at the dump the other day". It's been so long, like 15 years, since I've had to go the dump that this now makes me giggle to think that some people still have to take their own trash to the dump and that they enjoy the social outing.

UPDATE: My long lost friend just informed me that the dump is now called the Convenience Center. How convenient of them to let me dump my trash!