The Can

 

So three weeks ago it started snowing around here and we were buried under one and a half inches of wet snow. Oh the horrors. To add to the misery, for a whole week after that the temperatures never got warmer than ten degrees above zero. Thank the Lord, or Tom Skilling, after that the weather changed and we've had nearly two weeks of temperatures in the mid thirties to upper forties. It's like we're in Florida, but without the flying cockroaches. Of course that means all the snow has melted and piles of trash have appeared in my front yard. Yesterday I went out with my orange Home Depot bucket and my "Grabber Reacher Tool for Seniors" as it is described on Amazon, and picked up all the trash.

Let's go back to the one and a half inches of snow and sub freezing temperatures. On the first day of that terrible time I took in a friend's dog, Eddie. That means I had three dogs needing to poop and I was not going to take them out for a walk. No way was I going out in that mess with those dogs. So I would open the back door of the porch, let the little fur angels run out there, and watch them poop and pee all over the place. One good thing about Eddie, he always poops in the same spot. Bad thing about Eddie, his poops are gigantic. But never mind because all the dog poop would immediately disappear as their turds melted down through the snow. Unfortunately, snow melts and dog poop will still be there.

I have a six gallon trash can out by the alley. When I clean up the dog poo in the yard I put it in the can. Yesterday I cleaned up the yard. The six gallon can filled up fast, which meant I would have to transfer it to the big garbage bin so the City of Chicago could pick it up today. It was heavy and the bag I had lined the can with ripped open. Let's just say the shit almost hit the fan. Luckily I came prepared with a giant black trash bag that captured it and I was able to get it all in the big bin for the truck to pick up today. This is the reason we tip the garbage men around the holidays.

Comfort

 

I was in a doctor's office waiting room last week, helping out a friend. While he was in having a procedure, I took a seat in one of the very comfortable looking chairs provided. For the first few minutes I was fine. Then I realized the seat was canted forward, maybe one degree off the level. You see I have a very sophisticated sense of comfort and I can feel such things. A grain of sand in my shoe feels like a rock. If I sleep in the same spot in my bed too many times, I can feel the divot I have created. I have a very good mattress, but I can feel it. Anyway, sitting in that waiting room became unbearable after awhile. It reminded me of going to parties when I was young. One in particular, thrown by one of my crazy friends, came to mind. I had never been to his apartment before, so how was I to know he had no furniture. He had a stereo, a cat, and a mattress on the floor. That was it. I didn't stay long. Besides, like I said he was crazy. He was known for bringing his cat to gay bars and dancing with it. Also, he spent some time in jail for threatening to kill a United States Senator. I asked him to never call me again after that.  

I find that in my older age I need comfort and won't put up with hard seats, bad shoes, and parties with no furniture. Yet for nearly one whole year I lived on a farm with a bunch of hippies. We all slept on what you might call 'roadside' mattresses in one big room, on the floor. Seriously, I have no idea where those mattresses came from. I slept like a baby back then. That was over fifty years ago. Now I avoid being on the floor for any reason. Mostly because of the intense effort it takes to get me back up on my feet. Besides, that's where the dogs hang out. Lots of hair down there.