February 4th, 2005

fat pony like thunder

my old man's a dustman....

I was woken at about six this morning by a weird noise.

It was like a very heavy vehicle moving up the road, stopping and starting and making weird beeping noises. For a second I couldn't figure out what the hell it was (the mothership come to take Ju Ju home, perhaps?) until I realised it was the monthly collection of our recyclable stuff.

And I thought, oh bollocks, we forgot to put out the recycling bin.

The bin was full, as it usually is at the end of the month, and I couldn't bear the thought of us storing our recyclables in a series of large paper bags again (which has happened before), so I leaped out of bed, shoved my feet into my Diesel runners with the velcro straps (no laces required), grabbed a hoodie and ran downstairs and out the front door into the freezing cold pitch dark. The bin van was nearly at the house, so I grabbed the green bin and started to pull it down the drive. It didn't move.

There wasn't room to get it past the regular bin and the car and down the drive! I tried to move back the regular bin, but it wouldn't budge. And I was still practically asleep, and not in my right mind, so I was shoving away at it madly and nearly fell down until, to my great relief and embarrassment, I heard a binman go "hey, it's all right, I'll do that." So I said, "um, thanks very much" and ran back to bed. I returned to our room in a sleepy daze and was greeted by P going "well done!" And in a very sleepy, noble voice I said. "I saved the house!" and fell into bed.

So P said that I was trying to run off to join the recycling men and their tribe, and indeed created a dialogue in which I, apparently speaking like Celia Johnson, begged the binman (who spoke in strongest Dublinese) to be allowed join the merry band of recyclers. The scene ended with my triumphant departure holding on to the back on the recycling lorry, graciously waving farewell. I think this could be projection on P's part, because when he was a very small child he thought that the ultimate job was that of the bloke who rides around holding on to the back of the dustbin lorry. But still. Anyway, all this excitement meant that I couldn't get back to sleep, so now I am very tired. But comforted by the fact that somehow, by getting up at six and being unable to get a recycling bin to the curb, I "saved the house".
  • Current Mood
    knackered after waking up at 6