chasing the garbage truck
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-eight years and a million words
Toronto, 2018.08.28
Both of my grandfathers were known to chase down the garbage truck and get something precious back that their wives had thrown away. Today I found myself tearing open a garbage bag to retrieve something my wife had tossed. Thankfully, the bag was clear and the thing I wanted was easy to find, and the garbage had been sorted, so there were no foodstuffs or other slop in the back.
And what did I want retrieved? It was a small plastic divider that fits into my tackle box to divide its rows into discrete boxes. I'd been re-purposing for uses such as scraping things.
I suppose I've carried on a proud tradition. Well not
proud, per se.