Mere seconds after I published the last post, the nice man in the big truck came to haul away the shameful evidence of neglect and decay our dropbox.

I was too shy to boldly march out in my dressing gown (fancy for bathrobe) and fuzzy pink slippers and snap photos, so these were taken through windows and the garage.

First, the hookup, which was very smooth and deeply impressive to someone for whom backing a compact car into an empty 2-car driveway is considered a feat of technical prowess.

Should we avert our eyes?

Then he hauled it onto the truck and Rhonda was afeared that all the junk would shift and fall out.  But it didn’t, and all is well.

So much easier than a jillion dump trips.

Then the little motorized tarp dealy came out and hermetically sealed our junk from the elements.

It's important to be properly dressed for one's ride to the dump.

And then without so much as a cheery wave, off he drove with our junk, leaving a strangely lonely absence of dropbox.

Kenny drove up just in time to witness the dramatic moment.

After we dried our eyes and said a few words about the dear departed junk (“Good riddance!” etc) we went back to our humdrum lives, poorer in junk but richer in spirit.  Or something.


One response »

  1. I’m not at all bored! Though I will admit much of my attraction to these posts is a schaudenfreudish “thank GOD I don’t have these house-and-yard-related responsibilities!”

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