For twelve plus years, Thursdays in my home have been handled in a very specific way. Thursdays have been what our family called ” TRASH DAY for the family and/or TRASH NIGHT for the adults”. Not because the city collected the trash in my neighborhood on Thursdays, it didn’t, trash collection in my neighborhood has always occurred on Friday mornings…very, very, very early. So every week on Thursday night in my home the radio was on and turned up enough to dance if we wanted and sing if we dared while we collected all the trash from the bathroom and bedroom pails. This alone was no huge task, typically done to completion in a matter of minutes. The objective was to not only remove the trash from the bathroom and bedroom trash pails but more like miniature weekly sping cleanout sessions.
Trash night was a night that we cleaned the fridge of the leftovers no longer an edible option. Dumping expired milk, tossing eggs overdue, disposing any dish that had not been consumed in a timely fashion during the past week. And yes, any and all expired food that couldn’t be dumped down the drain or disposed by the sink disposal indeed remained safely in the fridge until trash night, so to not attract any bugs to an outside trash can. This would be like a neon light blinking a welcome message and smells of stale pizza and the like would be the latest greatest bug buffet in town.
Really, it was a solid and well thought out and multipurposed plan of pest control, odor obliterator, full property protection. God knows I can’t stand bugs and flies, wow, flies are a bothersome bug only trumped by the mosquitoe, spider and roach. (Yes, for me, in that exact order). These are in fact the most suicidal and ballsiest of all insects, who will take full advantage of a door left cracked open by kids who have no less than thirtyish trips in and out a front door on any given summer evening to make their rounds around the culdesac via bike or scooter, and preteen and teens who’s rounds where not on a bike but on a go-kart. should something slip through the cracks of trash night and make its way early to the can could be a pain in the ass. It means a fly, interestingly not weighed down by his brass balls, would be Mr Martyr. Always a dive bomber born to bother (Really, flies have some kinda nerve the way they make a point to fly directly at you, eye level, just to veer off before they hit you in the face).
More often than not the tv was turned off so it was also like a Sunday for spongebob who only got one night (Thursday) off a week, tirelessly working round the clock everyother night of the week for my children. Specifically my youngest who oddly had full control of the tv and the remote for several years, flying just below the radar of all the other family members. For a time, me and my husband would take time out to watch The Office on the bedroom tv while we folded laundry that was fresh out the dryer on our bed. The laundry during that time always seemed so warm and smelled so crisp and clean. Laundry hasn’t ever felt or smelled so wonderful as it did back then. Eventually we discovered this wonderous invention called DVR. (Side note: DVR is a whole story of happiness in and of itself. One to be shared on another day.)
To be cont…