Eff off, Mr. Lorax

As I believe I have mentioned before, I am in charge of the recycling at work. Because we don't have a pickup contract, I have to suck it up like a good little treehugger and take everything home to put out with my own stuff for the curbside collection every other week. If I miss a week or if someone cleans out their files, I end up with an assload of paper to haul. That's what happened last time recycling day came around, and I ended up with a kitchen cart completely loaded with bins. They were two or three deep on the top of the cart, and stuffed as full as they could be stuffed. Because it was windy, I had used heavy catalogs to hold down the top layers. Everything was neatly sorted and contained and ready to go.

We're having utility work done on the parking lot and therefore all the staff has to park really far away from the building. I didn't want to battle the wind and push the ginormous cartload of crap past the construction workers, so I pulled my car up to the front and went back in for the cart. And then, the topheaviness of the cart, the ridiculous wind, and the shallow curb all came together in the worst possible way and -- you can probably see where this is going -- the whole fucking thing tipped over sideways. All the paper bins dumped into the gap between my car and the curb, in the middle of 20 - 30 mile-per-hour wind gusts.

So there I am, on my knees scrabbling after goddamn fliers and envelopes and fuck-all else, dirt blowing up in my face, hair getting in my eyes, hoping my asscrack isn't hanging out of my jeans, trying not to cuss like a sailor out loud and who pulls up? The DIRECTOR. Who then runs around in his chinos and polo shirt gathering up scraps of paper from the landscaping. Meanwhile I'm still shoveling the shit into bins, throwing it into the back of my car, and I'd really just like to set the whole mess on fire and roast marshmallows by the flames and kick a few endangered species while I'm at it. And then? Two construction guys on their way to lunch stop to help. Which, okay, is totally rad and restores my faith in humanity somewhat but Jesus. H. Christ. I don't think I've wished that hard for the earth to swallow me whole since the 7th grade.




(Don't worry, endangered species, I wouldn't ever actually kick you. Or the Lorax. Though I sure felt like I might enjoy it.)



Reading:  Bloodhound by Tamora Pierce

Playing:  my Pearl Jam station on Pandora