Friday comes every week. And so does the garbage man.
Every Thursday night I get a giant leaf and yard bag from the garage and I go up stairs and gather all the garbages dragging the green plastic leaf and lawn bag behind me down 2 flights of stairs....into the office... I even ask Michael to move his grubby feet so I can get the can by the computer, the bathroom, the laundry room, clean out the lint traps, the fabric softener sheets that have found themselves all over the floor. I then drag the bag down another flight of stairs to the play room. Satisfied I am all collected I begin the trek back up the next two flights of stairs to the kitchen where I take the kitchen back and tie it up and get it into the great green monster. Spraying the kitchen garbage with Lysol and adding in a fresh gripper bag. I end by lugging the great green monster to the back door. In plain site. I leave it there, not because I am lazy but as a 'gentle' reminder. Saying in my mind, "hey stupid fucking idiot, for once take the trash out to the curb the night before", smiling washing my hands and making my way to the bedroom.
Friday morning I awake like Snow White, the birds are singing and in the distance I hear the crunching of the Blue Trash Truck. I look over at my husband sleeping so sweetly. I shower, I blow dry. Aww, husbands they are so cute when they sleep, ugh gross did he just fart in his sleep? Off to my make up table...oooh he stirs.
"Good morning honey, I love you"
"Oh Michael I love you too"
"ohhh I wanna stay in bed"
"Yes that would be fun. Oh honey, did you hear that? Sounds like the trash truck is on the next street, did you get the cans out?" Let the Benny Hill Music Begin.......
"OH FUCK! I FORGOT" (as I am thinking you shit it is fucking Friday like all the other fucking Fridays before. FRIDAY DOESNT MOVE!!!)
The covers are thrown off, he dancing around having to pee, should he pee, should he dress, CRAP!!! What is a man to do? He is hopping around where are his shorts, oh fuck screw it HE HAS TO PEE!!!!
OK peeing over now where are the damn shorts.
Calmly back at my makeup table, out my window I see the garbage man, I want to wave but I hate to distract him from the Playboy on the seat next to him. His rotund round belly spilling over to the steering wheel, constantly glancing over into that other seat. Damn, must be a good Issue. Still just smiling, applying lip liner.
"Damn, Hun why didn’t you wake me?"
"Wake you, why Michael, It's Friday, Garbage is here every Friday for 3 years. Did you forget on this Friday? Is it a special Friday? Have I forgotten something? Oh dear?" Mmmmmm I feel vindication bubbling.
Still half dressed and his shoes not even close to on he is stumbling down the stairs like and entire herd of buffalo I hear "God Dammit" and a crash.... Ooopsie, someone ran into the table. Funny, that table too has been there for 3 years. I then hear...
"Did you get the garbages?"
Not being one to yell I walk slowly and calmly down the stairs, "Michael, what do you think is in that bag? Fresh kill from my last night adventures? Of course I got the Garbages, right there, in the giant green bag!"
"Oh, I didn't see it"
Smiling inside I head back upstairs to serenity. Thinking, I didn't see. Note to self, have my husband schedule an eye appointment, we have a major issue.
Crashes, stumbles, cursing all the way, A 42 year old out of shape barely dressed man in is socks running to the curb. And to think YOU CAN SEE THIS SHOW EVERY FRIDAY. 7:30 AM!!
Brushing my sable Bobbie Brown Brush gently over my cheek I decide I could use a bit more bronzer today and for a moment I think, I wonder, besides Playboy, what does that Garbage man witness in a lifetime.
I ponder, after ten years of marriage... is this a game? What is Michael thinking about me. Oh to get in his head. Never mind.
Hmmmmmm and with a deep breath and I pick up the bronzer.
23 hours ago