First, I've been away for six weeks. My lovely "Sneak Peak" and "Call me Nancy Drew" posts came to you via Palm Springs. It was hot (surface of the sun hot), over 100 degrees every day and on some days upwards of 116F. The heat is inescapable. You can't get away from it and to prove it I got my first, very first, dare I say it ... age spot. [insert scary, horror film instrumental here] This is significant as I'm obsessed with the youthful appearance of my hands. Maybe it's because my Mom's hands look 100 years old or maybe it's because, I don't know ... my Mom's hands look 100 YEARS OLD!
And when the sun does finally go down, the bats come out. Tons of bats, maybe millions. Okay, maybe not millions but I've got a dramatic flare going here, don't forget the age spot! I did not enjoy the trip except to say, I'm finally home.
Anyway, it was planned that I'd be gone for maybe two weeks. I didn't plan to be away for six weeks and the garbage is Exhibit A. The trash fermented and although I never studied maggots in depth, I think I can safely say I've seen 'em up close! No person on the planet has ever closed a trash can quicker than I did Monday, August 16th, 11:45PM EST when I stood in my garage with a refrigerator full of expired food and nowhere to put it! I wasn't opening that can again. Hell, I would have hermetically sealed it but I didn't know how. In a pinch, I used the neighbor's trash cans! Thank you neighbor!
It gets worse. Last Spring, I ran over the trash can with the car. It popped back into shape but the bottom cracked. It worked fine but this crack allowed for a gelatinous, liquid, goo gunge to leak from the bottom when I tried to drag it out of the garage. Some advice...
1...do not drag a cracked trash bin across the garage floor. You will only spread the goo gunge.
2...when the ginormous roach cracks itself out of the goo's chewy center and slowly walks out of the surrounding puddle of goo, don’t scream like a 6 year old as it may attract the neighbors and then they too will know you’ve been garbage remiss.
3...after you kill said roach in psychopathic, screaming rage using only a box that your lace blocking wires came in (like how I got knitting content in there), contemplate having to persuade the trash collector to take the leaking pail without opening it.
4...consider taping it closed and putting a note on it that says "Trash, please take can."
5...be aware, #4 does not work.
6...consider pinning a $20 bill to the pail only if you want to lose $20 bucks and still own the goo pail.
7...ignoring the pail and putting it back in the garage does not make it go away.
8...admit defeat, go to Lowe's two days later and buy 55 gallons trash liners and bleach.
9...be hopeful that 55 gallon liners are big enough to hold a maggot filled trash bin.
10...squeal with delight when you discover that gelatinous goo gunge leaking pail fits in 55 gallon trash liners.
11...wrap trash bin with 6 liners while sweating to death the entire time from heat and anxiety.
12...when you accidentally find the carcass of the dead roach try not to repeat the "screaming like a 6 year old" performance from when you first met.
13...wash the garage floor with bleach and zeal.
14...wait 6 hours and carry the trash bin wrapped in 55 gallon liners to the illegal dumping site under the cover of night and chuck that whole heaping mess in.
15...run quickly before you're apprehended.
16...strip naked in the foyer of your home and bath for 30 minutes.
17...write blog post while the horror is still fresh.
That's all. Okay, the desert sunset's cool!
P.S. Blocking sucks but that's for tomorrow! [and that's more knitting content]. Yes!