Just when I thought I was going to have a difficult time coming up with a good post, my daughter Emily and I were tasked to make a dump run. Want to hear how a one-hour trip turned into three? Here's how it went down: (deep breath)
All was well, another day in paradise at the old XY ranch. Em and I are loading the garbage cans, gagging at maggots and other fancy garbage smells, getting the recycling sorted.Then, here come the 'little red flags" that always seem to happen around here:
1) Low tire on the REALLY full dump trailer with heavy construction waste.
2) Obviously the dump trailer hasn't been used much. Hooking the thing up= three-day constipation poop: Rusty, stuck and hard.
3) An amazing amount of Yellowjacket nests were discovered living in the tool box at the front of the trailer. (Don't ask how we found out.)
4) Emily gags at the smells pretty much the entire trip. Entertaining! ( for me- muwahahahaha!)
5) I got slogged with laundry soap during lid removal at the recycle station- I smelled like April fresh rotten eggs by then. (Bet that scent won't sell anytime soon.)
6) At the paystation, the pickup wouldn't start. (The starter is going out-SO glad somebody warned me.)
By this time, I'm sweating, the crotch of my work jeans are ripping, and I'm really trying hard to not throw things at the superawful nice lady, offering endless and wonderfully nice suggestions as to how to get it started. I ground a few millimeters of enamel off my teeth, hissed a few choice colorful metaphors, and we were back in business.. sort of..
7) Emily and I are 'cheerfully' unloading the trailer- suddenly we stare at each other in HORROR as the end of the trailer we're standing on slowly sinks to the ground- (yep- hitch was TOO SMALL.) We hooked it back up and attempted to finish unloading the trailer as fast as we could- I get hyperfocused on the little stuff and it unhooks AGAIN. (My. Dear. Hell.)
By this time, I'm waiting for the superawfully nice dump lady to not be so superawfully nice. We hook it back up again, I bungee the #$%^@#$ to the chains, and hope to Haysoos that it doesn't unhook on the 5 mile drive back to the ranch.
8) We make it home. (whew) I back it up, park, and attempt to unhook the chains from the truck. Nope. Won't budge. I shut off the engine and storm away. I'm done.
Total calories burned: 668. Blood pressure: Through the roof. I tried to find a match on my weight loss-o-meter and the closest thing I could find was 'yardwork'. Last straw *snap*
If you need me, I'm under Pearl, knitting hayblankets and chewing leather.
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