Call me OCD

Call me OCD but I have to get the trash out by seven o’clock in the morning. No, the trash is not picked up that early. Sometimes they don’t come until after eight. There have been times when the bags waited as long as noon to be picked up. When I was still working they had to be out at seven because we have to be gone on time. Getting it out earlier was no problem but I should not get it out much later than seven, if at all possible.

It may seem silly to you but I have a twinge of embarrassment if I see that I am the last one in the neighborhood to get the trash out. I know that it doesn’t matter. It matters to me. Is it OCD or do I have a fear that we will have to keep the stinky garbage until the next time?

There was a time when I tried putting it out the night before. Bad idea! When you put it our over night your little kitty cat neighbors help themselves to it and they leave everything else for display in the yard and on the street to be collected later.

There have been times when I have had extra stuff for the recyclers. One time I had a bunch that had to get out. Because there was so much of it, I was determined to get it out the night before. The wind was not helpful. I stacked collapsed boxes and tried to weigh them down with the full recycle bin. That wasn’t heavy enough. There was no way on God’s blue marble that I was going to wrestle all of this mess out to the curb in the morning. No one would help me so I fought the war myself.

I am sure that the neighbors had a good laugh at my expense. Cars would zoom by, “Hey look y’all! That dude is having trouble! Lets watch!” 

By the way, this was how I met my future son-in-law. He was bringing first daughter home. I’m sure he enjoyed the show.