*long winded ramble*
As requested. An oldie but a goldie.
That moment when you get to bed and realise that you forgot to put the refuse bin out. You lie there thinking somehow it will solve itself and by magic the bin will put itself out dynamo style. You then toy with the Idea that maybe you could survive another fortnight without putting it out. How much is in the bin?How many shitty nappies will Ellie produce in the next fortnight? There is about 5-6 inches of space at the top but will it be enough for 14 days of rubbish again?You still lie there uncontrollably crying and sucking your thumb and hoping your mam might come and rub your face.
I could easily put it out in the morning as I don't sleep but I know I'll be listening to music when country clean roll up at 6 am. Fuck you country clean you have ruined my life! Maybe 1,000,000 million likes on Facebook will put the fuckin bin out.
Then there is the pain of trying to remember which stupid bin is going out? Obviously they sent me a schedule but its in that drawer that everyone has that is full to the brim of broken pens sellotape and old bits and pieces that you thought you needed to keep. You could go down and search for it but sure then you may as well put out the bin.The shit drawer maybe worth more hassle to you anyway as by now there is almost certainly a family or mice or worse living in there.I wish someone would set fire to that drawer.
I need to go to the toilet now anyway so I may as well put out the bin. Next I decide that there is no need to get dressed as I'm up now and it will only take me 2 mins. I do my number ones and go to the garage and haul the bin to the door. I have an electronic garage door which as a norry I am very very proud of. They said i'd amount to nothing being an idiot yet I have an electronic garage door with a remote control.
As always I put the door up and down a few times as the novelty of having the electronic door never ceases to amaze me.I'm like feckin Mr. Bean standing there in my shorts and barefoot watching the door. Even a NASA space shuttle launch doesn't get me as excited as the door.I focus on the job at hand. I lug the bin up my long drive which is steeper that Patricks hill. It's heavy this week and the smell off it is empty reach invoking. I put it in place and head back down the drive.
Its about 3am and drizzly so I hurry and then just like that scene in platoon where William Dafoe is running for the chopper and gets milled down with bullets it happens to me as well. I can hear adagio for strings playing in my head as I step barefoot on a medium sized sharpish stone which takes me out like a sniper. I fall in slow motion to the ground just like defoe and again I'm uncontrolavbly crying.Maybe someone will call a nee naw (ambulance) for me. "WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEE" I shout but nobody cares or is listening. I'm bawling like a two year old again all over the god damn bins.
I hobble inside with a tug in my heart sobbing and asking myself is this what my life is now? Living in fear of the bins every week? There are so many questions! Which bin is going out? Will they ever collect the red bin? When are we getting the new brown bin and what goes in it? I can't do this anymore. I need a bin counsellor and many many sessions.
I limp upstairs and throw myself on the bed.I see my life flash before me. Maybe I'm dying from this bin related injury. At least my battle is over for another week but the war still rages on. Ill hear the bin lads empty that damn bin at 6 and then I have a few days before bin fear kicks in again.I start to relax. I start to calm down.
Then as I'm snug as a bug in a rug I go into pure and utter heartattack and stroke mode. I can feel my head going to implode and I cant breathe. I'm in serious trouble. I forgot to close the fuckin garage door...........
I need to go to the toilet now anyway so I may as well put out the bin. Next I decide that there is no need to get dressed as I'm up now and it will only take me 2 mins. I do my number ones and go to the garage and haul the bin to the door. I have an electronic garage door which as a norry I am very very proud of. They said i'd amount to nothing being an idiot yet I have an electronic garage door with a remote control.
As always I put the door up and down a few times as the novelty of having the electronic door never ceases to amaze me.I'm like feckin Mr. Bean standing there in my shorts and barefoot watching the door. Even a NASA space shuttle launch doesn't get me as excited as the door.I focus on the job at hand. I lug the bin up my long drive which is steeper that Patricks hill. It's heavy this week and the smell off it is empty reach invoking. I put it in place and head back down the drive.
Its about 3am and drizzly so I hurry and then just like that scene in platoon where William Dafoe is running for the chopper and gets milled down with bullets it happens to me as well. I can hear adagio for strings playing in my head as I step barefoot on a medium sized sharpish stone which takes me out like a sniper. I fall in slow motion to the ground just like defoe and again I'm uncontrolavbly crying.Maybe someone will call a nee naw (ambulance) for me. "WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEE" I shout but nobody cares or is listening. I'm bawling like a two year old again all over the god damn bins.
I hobble inside with a tug in my heart sobbing and asking myself is this what my life is now? Living in fear of the bins every week? There are so many questions! Which bin is going out? Will they ever collect the red bin? When are we getting the new brown bin and what goes in it? I can't do this anymore. I need a bin counsellor and many many sessions.
I limp upstairs and throw myself on the bed.I see my life flash before me. Maybe I'm dying from this bin related injury. At least my battle is over for another week but the war still rages on. Ill hear the bin lads empty that damn bin at 6 and then I have a few days before bin fear kicks in again.I start to relax. I start to calm down.
Then as I'm snug as a bug in a rug I go into pure and utter heartattack and stroke mode. I can feel my head going to implode and I cant breathe. I'm in serious trouble. I forgot to close the fuckin garage door...........
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