Sometimes, you gotta stick to the plan. Other times, it behooves you to stray.
I'd planned on taking the alternate route to town for a few days, to avoid those big trucks. I had every intention of doing so. I'd also planned to dump some trash from T-Hoe at the end of the driveway as I headed to town Wednesday. It was trash day.
I've been keeping a large black trash bag on the floor of T-Hoe's passenger side. When I get those junk mail catalogs out of EmBee, I don't bother carrying them into the Mansion any more. I just put them in that trash bag. It's nowhere near full, only about 1/4, but those magazines, as The Pony calls them, are heavy. I don't want them to rip out the side of the bag. I also don't want THAT trash bag in the bottom of the dumpster. It would be awkward, if the trash men lift the bags out by hand like the last trash service. If they hook up the truck to the dumpster, not so much. But I figured I'd wait until a trash day, and set that bag on the top. I'm helpful like that.
Anyhoo... I got to the end of the driveway, and decided I didn't really want to walk around and across five feet of grass to the dumpster. What if I picked up some buggy freeloaders in the mesh of my shoes, and they feasted on my feet while I was making my stops in town? I actually parked T-Hoe there for a minute, wavering, and decided the world wouldn't end if I waited another week. Maybe I'd put that bag in on a Tuesday night, before Farmer H pulled the dumpster up the driveway with the Gator.
On I went, down the gravel road, about 1/8 of a mile, to the poorly-blacktopped hill courtesy of Farmer H and Buddy. I was actively hoping I didn't meet a vehicle on that curvy hill. You can see through the trees, across the little creek, to the opposite hill. I looked, and saw nothing headed my way. I was on the sharpest part of the curve when I saw THE TRASH TRUCK coming at me. I got T-Hoe over into the tree limbs as far as I could, and the truck was able to get past me.
If I'd only taken time to put that trash bag in the dumpster, I would have seen the trash truck coming up the gravel road before I pulled out of the driveway. So much for hindsight.
On the way to town, out of the blue, I decided to get my scratchers at Country Mart instead of Casey's. Not the original plan. The closer I got, the more I changed my mind about which tickets to get. I kept urging myself to stick to the plan, but myself wouldn't listen.
As I returned home, I did NOT take the alternate route as I had planned. I figured I was so late (it was after 2:00 already) that surely those big poop trucks (yes, that's what they are, we won't discuss it today) would have already made their run.
Of course you know what happened. At least I was on a straight stretch, and not a blind hill, so I saw the semi with the green cab coming at me. I got over as close to the edge of the road as possible, and stopped to let him go by. That was actually the widest part, the best place to meet him if I had to. So it worked out. But still, I'll know to stick to the plan next time, and take the alternate route.
The good thing, though, about varying my original plans, is that my Country Mart scratcher was a $50 winner! No picture, because I only do that with a hundred or higher. But you can bet I'm happy with it.
6 comments:
And I'm sure you'll share that with Farmer H and give him $25 of your winnings, right?
Sioux,
I'm going to need it for part of the co-pay when I drive myself to the ER in one-mirrored T-Hoe for treatment of the ribs I just broke while laughing so hard.
Woo-Hoo! $50.
out here we're not supposed to put papers and magazines in the regular rubbish bin, they're supposed to go into the recycling bin. Which only works out if you live in a house and have your own bin. Where I live, each flat has it's own landfill rubbish bin, then there is one recycling bin for four flats and one "green waste" bin for four flats. So I stack up my newspapers and used envelopes, catalogues etc until I have enough to make it worthwhile carrying them to the bin only to find: Holey-Moley! it is already filled with regular household rubbish, like bottles of soured milk, and half-eaten cakes in boxes, cigarette butts and tons of ash that must have come out of their car ashtrays. From the two flats across the lobby who don't care what goes where and only shovel out their flats once a month or so. So I heave a big sigh and put my recycling back into my porch and wait until the bins have been emptied then I scoot out there real quick and dump it all in, ready for the next collection, a fortnight away.
River,
At least you've figured out a plan to get your papers in the bin. We don't have any recycling out here, and two of the local cities have discontinued theirs. I guess the costs became too much. They used to give each house a plastic bin about the size of a Rubbermaid storage container for their recyclables.
Our recycle and green waste bins are like your dumpsters, plenty of room for a household, useless for four flats unless the tenants do the right thing.
River,
Expecting FOUR households to do the right thing is pretty optimistic these days. Good in theory, but not realistic. People have a way of ruining everything that's done for their own good!
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