In those days, the old folks would tell of a splendor which had once illuminated the heavens. Though they had not seen it in ages, they spoke fondly of it. And they called its name "the sun"...
I cannot recall the last time I didst see the yellow sun.
It has rained all year. And more rain is forecast. It's like living in Seattle. Except without the Space Needle, formerly cool music scene, or proximity to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.
I'm beginning to think the Mayans may not have been completely wrong, just off by a month or two.
There is talk of this so-called "sun" appearing on Friday, but I'll believe it when I see it. In the mean time, I think I may begin pricing gopher wood on Craigslist. And livestock.
Today, the garbage was at the peak of its stench. Unable to put it off any longer, I decided to brave the rain and take out the trash.
Big mistake.
To reach the communal waste receptacle, I have to go out the back gate, down a sidewalk, and across a small parking area. It's roughly 72 steps, though I take longer strides to round it down to a nice OCD-friendly 70. Actually, 80 would be more friendly. Or 100. Or 50. I tried taking 50 once but then I just looked like a big lurching, creepy orangutan.
Often when it's raining, I'll jog instead of walking. I don't want to run too fast, so as to appear scared of getting wet. It's more of a manly trot, really. Like a firefighter, in a bit of a hurry because, hey, you never know when there might be a life to save.
Well, the sidewalk part of the trip is fine, but once I get into the parking lot area, there is standing water. At first, it's not too bad, just a few puddles. But then I feel it soaking through my Chucks. (Yes, I wear Chucks. I dress like Ted Mosby. I dress exactly like Ted Mosby.) I cringe, but it is too late. They are saturated.
With each step, the water seems to deepen exponentially. Like the parking area must have been built on a slant for some reason. By now, it has to be at least a foot deep. So about halfway through the parking lot and with water soaking me from the knees down, I decide to abort.
What? They always tell you in a flash flooding situation if you encounter standing water, do not try to cross. Am I right? Besides, it is a fact more people die from floods each year than are killed by automatic car wash mishaps and being crushed by vending machines combined!
Armed with this knowledge, I veer off to the right to begin making a half circle back towards home base. But as soon as I do, I realize I still have a garbage bag in my hand. My mind races. I can't turn back now. What am I gonna do, take the garbage back inside? But Bone, you could die! Yes, but this garbage really stinks. Good point, risk it.
I veer back to the left, planning to toss the bag into the dumpster from ten yards away so I can retreat as quickly as possible. It is then that I notice the dumpster door is closed. I also realize that my free arm has, for some reason, begun flailing out to my side, as I... continue my... manly, fireman-like trot.
I think I'm beginning to understand why J.D. Salinger didn't leave the house for 30 years.
I glance up at some of the windows. They look dark and suddenly strange. Hollow, yet not empty. I wonder if someone is watching from within. Or worse, videoing it all.
I mean, picture if you will: a man in his late thirties, daintily high-stepping through a foot or more of water, with a trash bag in one hand, other arm flailing like he's just seen a mouse, veering across the parking lot in a bit of an S-pattern, and now thoroughly soaked nearly up to his skivvies. (I may have also let out a high-pitched yelp at some point when the water reached my knees.)
Moments like this are the entire reason YouTube was created! Also, the mental health profession.
Resigned to my fate, I wade over to the dumpster and deposit the bag of trash. Soaking wet and now also freezing, because not only is it raining, but it has not gotten above 38 degrees all day, I begin the 70-step slog back. Except for some reason, I don't walk. But I do not trot, either. It's more like I'm skipping now.
Involuntarily, inexplicably, skipping in the rain.
And pretty sure I no longer look anything like a fireman.
"Hey, come look through the window pane / The bus is comin' / Gonna take us to the train / Looks like we'll be blessed with a little more rain / It's four feet high and risin'..."
I cannot recall the last time I didst see the yellow sun.
It has rained all year. And more rain is forecast. It's like living in Seattle. Except without the Space Needle, formerly cool music scene, or proximity to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge.
I'm beginning to think the Mayans may not have been completely wrong, just off by a month or two.
There is talk of this so-called "sun" appearing on Friday, but I'll believe it when I see it. In the mean time, I think I may begin pricing gopher wood on Craigslist. And livestock.
Today, the garbage was at the peak of its stench. Unable to put it off any longer, I decided to brave the rain and take out the trash.
Big mistake.
To reach the communal waste receptacle, I have to go out the back gate, down a sidewalk, and across a small parking area. It's roughly 72 steps, though I take longer strides to round it down to a nice OCD-friendly 70. Actually, 80 would be more friendly. Or 100. Or 50. I tried taking 50 once but then I just looked like a big lurching, creepy orangutan.
Often when it's raining, I'll jog instead of walking. I don't want to run too fast, so as to appear scared of getting wet. It's more of a manly trot, really. Like a firefighter, in a bit of a hurry because, hey, you never know when there might be a life to save.
Well, the sidewalk part of the trip is fine, but once I get into the parking lot area, there is standing water. At first, it's not too bad, just a few puddles. But then I feel it soaking through my Chucks. (Yes, I wear Chucks. I dress like Ted Mosby. I dress exactly like Ted Mosby.) I cringe, but it is too late. They are saturated.
With each step, the water seems to deepen exponentially. Like the parking area must have been built on a slant for some reason. By now, it has to be at least a foot deep. So about halfway through the parking lot and with water soaking me from the knees down, I decide to abort.
What? They always tell you in a flash flooding situation if you encounter standing water, do not try to cross. Am I right? Besides, it is a fact more people die from floods each year than are killed by automatic car wash mishaps and being crushed by vending machines combined!
Armed with this knowledge, I veer off to the right to begin making a half circle back towards home base. But as soon as I do, I realize I still have a garbage bag in my hand. My mind races. I can't turn back now. What am I gonna do, take the garbage back inside? But Bone, you could die! Yes, but this garbage really stinks. Good point, risk it.
I veer back to the left, planning to toss the bag into the dumpster from ten yards away so I can retreat as quickly as possible. It is then that I notice the dumpster door is closed. I also realize that my free arm has, for some reason, begun flailing out to my side, as I... continue my... manly, fireman-like trot.
I think I'm beginning to understand why J.D. Salinger didn't leave the house for 30 years.
I glance up at some of the windows. They look dark and suddenly strange. Hollow, yet not empty. I wonder if someone is watching from within. Or worse, videoing it all.
I mean, picture if you will: a man in his late thirties, daintily high-stepping through a foot or more of water, with a trash bag in one hand, other arm flailing like he's just seen a mouse, veering across the parking lot in a bit of an S-pattern, and now thoroughly soaked nearly up to his skivvies. (I may have also let out a high-pitched yelp at some point when the water reached my knees.)
Moments like this are the entire reason YouTube was created! Also, the mental health profession.
Resigned to my fate, I wade over to the dumpster and deposit the bag of trash. Soaking wet and now also freezing, because not only is it raining, but it has not gotten above 38 degrees all day, I begin the 70-step slog back. Except for some reason, I don't walk. But I do not trot, either. It's more like I'm skipping now.
Involuntarily, inexplicably, skipping in the rain.
And pretty sure I no longer look anything like a fireman.
"Hey, come look through the window pane / The bus is comin' / Gonna take us to the train / Looks like we'll be blessed with a little more rain / It's four feet high and risin'..."
Couldn't you have arranged for a camera?????
ReplyDeleteI laughed so hard while reading this I woke up the slumbering cat at my side, who was less than impressed when I told her it was your fault for being so funny.
ReplyDeleteThat's pretty bad Bone. Perhaps you should have saved the garbage trip for when you were using your car and drove over to the communal garbage receptical.
ReplyDeleteAgree with Renee but like TC I laughed very hard and as with Hildred and Charles I think a camera would have been nice
ReplyDeleteI'm obviously not capable of a single original thought. Just reading about rain....
:-D
ReplyDeleteWhat are chucks though?
I wasn't going to tell you, but:
ReplyDeleteI WAS up in that window, and I DID have a video camera, and now your garbage-toting exploits have gone viral on YouTube. So thank you hugely for making my channel a YouTube sensation.
And, no, I will not send you the link. You were *there*, Chuck(s), when it happened, so why do you need to watch it online? That's just silly.
I would have been one of those people I hate who instead of braving the water to throw away my stinky trash just sits it outside the front door so all can smell it as they walk by until a few days later when it was more convenient.
ReplyDelete72 is a perfectly good number.
ReplyDelete9 x 8 = 72
3 x 3 = 9
2 x 2 x 2 = 8
If this comment box would do superscript properly, instead of writing 3 x 3 I could write 3^2, and instead of writing 2 x 2 x 2 I could write 2^3.
In other words…
2^3 x 3^2 = 72
Yup, 72 is a great number.
Don't ever move to Pennsylvania. You wouldn't last a week.
ReplyDeleteHildred & Charles - I'll try and work on that for next time :)
ReplyDeleteTC - You should take a picture of her and post it online with the caption "I Can Has Cheezburger." Then she and I could both be on the internets.
Renee - Trash? In my car? Gross :) Though I suppose I could rent a bus and haul my garbage to the nearest repository whilst taking guests on the Bone Reality Tour.
Pia - I've been saying I should have my own reality show. Then you could have been here filming it. Sure, there are a lot of boring days. But what do I need, 30 semi-entertaining minutes a week? I could manage that. Probably.
J Adamthwaite - These are chucks :) Old-school Converse shoes. Canvas, with a rubber sole.
Jocelyn - I knew it! What did you title it? I've already searched YouTube for "Prancing In The Rain" and "Whiny Prancer" and didn't see it, though the former did bring up some interesting footage.
Ed - I've done that before. It even starts to lose its stench after four or five days. I'm not sure why, I guess the smell molecules start to die or something.
Capn John - Eh, seems like a lot of work. 64, I could see, because that would be like 2 to the 6th power. Then I could divide my walk into four sections of 16 steps each. Or 8 sections of 8.
Susan - I'm not sure I would last a week in a lot of places.
I like taking out the trash because we have to throw it over a ledge. Two points for a score!
ReplyDeleteRun, don't walk in the rain: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MqYE2UuN24
I've seen "dudes" put the trash on top of the car somewhere...like on the hood or luggage rack.
ReplyDeleteJust let me know when I should alert the media or at least Kramerica Industries about your tour.
MarkD60 - I started getting a headache near the end of that video.
ReplyDeleteRenee - I've never used my luggage rack! I always wondered what it was for :)
Actonbell - I don't think I was singing, but I can't say for sure as I often can be found humming or singing some random tune.
We finally got a few days of sun here. Cold, but I'll take it.
HAha! How did I miss this post? Oh my gosh, the visuals...! I'm almost sure that someone got an iphone video of this from one of those windows...I will have to do a search on youtube! Youtube search key words: "flailing saturated chucks fireman manly skipping" :P
ReplyDeleteP.S. I'm glad you finally got some sun.