We’re nearing the home stretch of the panicked packing and preparation that’ll have us settled comfortably into our new digs in one weeks time.
One week! Oy.
Over the weekend, I dropped Taylor (18) off at his girlfriend’s and stopped for a moment to say hello to the mom. She inquired how the packing was going and casually mentioned that if I had any stuff to be thrown away, the town was doing a “free pass to the dump day”, for that day only…not to be repeated again for the remainder of the year, due to budget restrictions. I asked her if she knew what time they finished up over there and she figured it was somewhere around 1 or 2 o’clock. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard and was dismayed to see it was 1:06.
“They might already be closed,” I say.
“It’s worth taking a ride over to see,” she responds.
As I navigate the five minute drive to the center of town, my mind goes into overdrive thinking about all the crap I could throw away…if only I had the chance! There were no other cars in the huge lot when I pulled in…but the cub scouts were still manning the lemonade stand, so I figured I was golden. The guys in the booth by the massive dumpsters said 2:30 was closing time and with a whoop of joy, I
squealed rubber delicately turned around and tore out of there casually merged back onto the highway to get back to the house.
All Connor (13) heard was the garage door open and me yelling, “CONNOR! HURRYHURRYHURRY GET THE SCREWDRIVERS GET THE HAMMER GET THE CRAP ALL THE CRAP IF WE CAN FIT IN MY CAR HURRYHURRYHURRY NOT MUCH TIME IT’S FREE IT’S FREEEE!!!!!!”
Connor met me at the bottom of the stairs and responded with a profound, “What?”
I said, “IT’S FREE YA GOTTA HELP ME LET’S DITCH THAT BROKEN MINI POOL TABLE AND THAT BROKEN FLOOR LAMP AND….OH, CRAP! IT NEEDS THAT OTHER KIND OF SCREWDRIVER I HOPE I DIDN’T ALREADY PACK IT THE O’HENRY SCREWDRIVER GO FIND IT GO FIND IT NOW.”
Connor is completely clueless as to what I’m referring to…both with the screwdriver and the crap to throw away. All he knew is that I was dropping his brother off at his girlfriends.
I say, “Connor! Snap out of it and get me that screwdriver that’s the guy’s name!”
Connor: “What? Mom, I have no idea—“
Me: “Oh, c’mon! It’s the screwdriver that’s some guy’s name…I always forget the name…you know, for these weird screws? Never mind. I’ll get it myself…we’ve only got 45 minutes…it's free!”
I return with the tool and we painstakingly remove all the screws, bolts and other assorted hardware…neatly placing all the accessories into a bag in case someone there can fix the broken leg on the table, thereby rendering it still old but totally playable. We threw it and anything else we could find into the car until I couldn’t see out the back and we couldn’t close the trunk. We then gingerly bolted (isn't that an oxymoron?) out the driveway and over to the town dump. They checked my ID and directed us to the back area, where 2 guys waved me over and had me back up dangerously close to a drop-off where a tractor sat below with its empty bucket poised and waiting for its next load of crap. Suddenly, my trunk was open and doors were opening and as I started to explain about the broken leg on the pool table, I watched it sail through the air and crash down into the waiting bucket. This was followed in quick succession by the legs of said table and everything else that was in my car. These guys were machines! Within 15 seconds, my car was empty and they’d moved on to the next guy. Connor and I jumped back in the car (lest we be confused for crap and find ourselves sailing through the air towards that waiting bucket). We were grinning like idiots for pulling off the garbage/crap run of the century.
…and they heard Kathryn exclaim as she drove out of sight, “AN ALLEN WRENCH! THAT’S WHAT IT’S CALLED, DAMMIT!”
…and all was right with the world.