Every week (or so it seems), I suffer through the endless customer service loop with my trash collecting service. Although, the term trash 'collecting' seems to be an oxymoron, in this case. And every week there is some excuse as to why my trash was not picked up on its scheduled date. This morning I just opened the conversation with, "So, what's this week's excuse?" Don't you think that the job description for customer service reps should require a sense of humor? Every week, I call them, they give me assurances, they lie.
I was all het-up because I pay for this expensive service so that I can recycle more. As I sat stewing on the endless phone loop, I had one of those head-slapping moments. Oh, DUH! If I didn't bring the stuff (packaging) into the house in the first place, I wouldn't have to recycle it. I generate so little trash that, by a little brain power (little being the operative word), I bet it would only cost me $4 a month to dispose of what little I have. I cancelled the service.
On Wednesday, while celebrating the arrival of Spring by shoveling an additional four inches of snow (and ice), I was too cranky to just suck it up and do a thorough job on the back deck. So I couldn't close the gate to the chicken yard. Who cares, I thought. They are just as sick of the snow as I am and will be hanging close to the coop. I had forgotten that we DO get sun every once in a while, and it melted a nice path from coop to deck. When I got home, I was greeted by a new meaning to Poop Deck (for all you sailors - being a daughter of two ex-Navy parents). The dogs were thrilled - Poop-cicles!
This weekend, Sage and Chickie go to the midwife's farm. That's pretty darn exciting for all of us, although I will miss their little chunky selves every morning, Sage screaming that she's starving, Chickie bouncing sideways. But I will have a chance to do some much-needed repairs and barn-cleaning.
I had decided to join a knitting group on Sunday evenings and then realized that this Sunday, my sister will be staying over on her way to spend a few days with our parents. Then next Sunday is Easter. Sigh. And I am in need of some moral support, as I am determined to restart my cardigan.
On my last unscheduled day off, I reworked part of my office - forgetting, of course, that it is Bernie's little lair. She had that "what fresh hell are you putting me through?" look all day, and it took a couple of days for her to realize that it was still a safe zone. I have learned to do changes in stages and let her get used to each one before proceeding. Dogs rule.
Next week, my little batch of replacement layer chicks will arrive. Then it will officially be Spring.