Went to the dump with D&L this morning, helping them load/unload smelly garbage in return for getting to pack along one of my own garbage cans and whatever misc. yard trash would fit in the relatively tiny cargo bed of their enormous Dodge truck. I compost what I can and burn what I can and feed to chickens what I can, but garbage still accumulates and I’m not one of these lowlifes who just pile it up downwind, and when you live alone in the desert without reliable transport and you own three garbage cans and the second one is getting pretty full a chance to empty one of them does not come every day and is not to be sneered at*. So I almost always look forward to a chance to help D&L with their garbage. Also they were throwing away some perfectly good buckets, which went right into the Jeep.
Finally got back, and since the trailer was already hitched up I went straight to Landlady’s place to finish that cleanup job…
Oh, the end pieces of that fuel tank rack are heavy. I still want a chance at splitting the nuts on the big bolts holding them together with a cold chisel – or a nut splitter if I can find a neighbor with one he’d loan – but I don’t know when that’ll be and the principal objective was to get them the hell off Landlady’s plaza. And though my back is singing at me like Angry Pavaratti, the objective has been achieved.
Now I’m going to have a beer, or two, and sit out on the breezy porch for a while. I remember, when I was young, that that would not have seemed like a pleasant prospect in the middle of the day. But screw Young Me. He was an idiot.
*There’s a run-on sentence worthy of St. Paul! 😉