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Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Garbage Day

Today was Garbage Day so tonight is a perfect time to tell you about it. First, let me say that I am married to the nicest guy in the universe. When I wake up in the morning and look like Medusa, he says things like, "You look so pretty this morning." I mean really.

But on Garbage Day morning he is unrecognizable. Hair sprouts in coarse tufts all over him; he hunches over like Quasimodo; and he drools as he careens around the kitchen hunting for things to throw out. Despite the ungraceful air, he is shockingly fast and agile when it comes to getting thngs into the bag. He focuses like a laser on the idea that there might be a molecule of food in the house that could be thrown away. Nothing is safe. Vegetables and fruits are the first to go. It doesn't matter if they are barely hours old. Who needs vegetables? What purpose does fruit serve. Between you and me he is always teetering on the edge of scurvy. I'm a bit concerned that he may have O.D.'d on the broccoli I served this week--I know it was a shock to his system.

I have to stand guard in front of the refrigerator to prevent him from throwing EVERYTHING away. When I suggest that ripe bananas can go in the freezer for banana bread he just snickers and drools and throws them in his giant garbage bag. He even loses his mind over the garbage BAGS.

We have at least 15 different types of garbage bags. Ones in plastic bags and ones in boxes, white ones, green ones, yellow ones, orange ones, black ones, heavy-duty ones, flimsy ones, scented ones, drawstring ones, easy-tie ones, in all sizes. You get the idea? Although my husband (I was planning to refer to him as Banjo but he suggested Flabio, so Flabio it is) normally totally leaves me to do whatever I want, about anything, he is fussy about his bags. He doesn't hear so good--and is deaf in one ear--but if I open the cupboard for a garbage bag he can hear it 6 miles away and is immediately by my side whispering in a Gollum slippery voice, "can I help you choose one?" WTF? Who cares? As far as I'm concerned whichever one comes into my hand is the right one. Oh no, we have to choose the PROPER one depending on its intended use.

It's intended use? It's intended use is to put GARBAGE in it so who cares? Needless to say, (he thinks) selecting a proper bag is important--except on Garbage Day. On Garbage Day he pulls out all the stops and takes out the largest bag we have because we want to have lots of room to throw out all kinds of things that don't need throwing out! Get it?

Fortunately, once the stuff gets to the curb, his psychosis subsides. The bushy hair falls out, the glazed look is replaced with his normal gentle demeanor, and he starts walking normally again. He usually feels a bit tired and has to lie down, and then it's over. The storm has passed until another week goes by.

Interestingly enough, between Garbage Days sometimes things disappear from the kitchen area that should not have been thrown out. There's a surprise. Maybe I had to take the dog out or go answer the phone, and in a moment of inattention he has used a lightening fast reach to throw something extra away. Oh well, I guess that's a small price to pay for an otherwise very peaceful and happy existence that we have together. Flabio has no memory of these things that have disappeared--maybe an apple I was saving or a coffee from Starbucks that wasn't finished. He smiles, and I just say "I guess it threw itself away." I think you have to choose your battles, and this is not one that is important to me. I'll just buy another apple and some more garbage bags. We definitely don't want to run short on those.

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