The sign on the big, tall recycle bin into which we toss our recyclable trash says: Do not use for yard waste.
I think I now know why.
Upon first read, I assumed it was because some people might mistakenly fill it and place it at the road for the city to collect their leaves and grass clippings.
While I’m sure that has a lot to do with the edict, I have a feeling there’s more to it.
Here’s a clue: If I say “recycle bin” my daughter erupts in a fit of giggles.
You see, I broke the recycle bin rule and used it for the collection of yard waste.
My next door neighbor has a large pine tree in his yard and offered me his fallen pine needles. All I needed to do was collect them.
And, what better way to collect them but with a large, wheeled, light weight container? The recycle bin was perfect.
So, I grabbed mine, freshly emptied by Metro, and headed across the yard, through the hedges, and into his front gate.
A rake stood against the old pine tree and I set about my task. He had already created several piles of pine straw so the work went quickly at first.
I tipped the tall recycle bin onto its front with the lid flipped over its back and began to rake straw into it. When I could rake no more into it without packing it down, I grabbed the handle (which was under the opened lid) and began to lift the bin into an upright position so I could continue to load it from the top.
Simple enough, or so it would seem. The problem was the large lid that attaches to the handle. Instead of flipping it closed, I allowed it to remain open. (Big mistake.)
As I pulled the bin upright, the large lid flipped outward onto the ground and I stepped on it.
I’ve yet to figure out the exact steps that caused what happened next. And, no. I’ve not tried to duplicate it apart from in my mind.
As I pulled the bin upright, my right foot stepped on the lid. The weight of my body on the lid pulled the bin slightly sideways and off balance which threw me off balance as well. And, somehow, in attempting to keep the bin upright and myself from falling, I ended up headfirst in the bin which caused the bin to topple over onto its other side.
Exiting the bin a bit slower than I entered it, I brushed myself off and examined my stinging right shoulder and aching left pinkie finger. My left forearm felt a bit odd, as did my wrist, but neither showed indication of injury. My pride, however, smarted a great deal and I looked around to see who might have witnessed my tumble.
The pine straw in the bin had cushioned my fall and become compacted to about a foot in depth by my jarring impact. I quickly set about work and had the recycle bin full and ready to drag across my neighbor’s front yard, out his gate, down his drive, up the street, into my drive and across my yard to the backyard where I would dump it. (Was a far shorter journey when I could lift it over the hedges that border our yards.)
The problem was the little tan Chihuahua named Rose. She was intent on accompanying me through the gate.
As I was pondering what to do and how to do it, I received a text from Daughter saying she was heading home from the zoo.
Problem solved. I would just wait 15 minutes for her to arrive home and ask her to occupy Rose in play while I slipped out the gate with the recycle bin.
And, that’s what happened.
I had no intention of sharing my recycle bin fiasco with anyone, but when Daughter offered to hang around while I finished up the work of loading and transporting the bin twice more….
Well, sometimes things come up and out in casual conversation that you intended to keep private.
Such was the case here.
Of course, the telling of my debacle delighted Daughter.
And, every time she hears the words “recycle bin” she giggles uncontrollably.
Personally, I don’t see what’s so funny about it. 😉
suzansays 