I’ve got this thing about garbage.
I’m against it.
Not just any garbage, of course. Garbage cans, landfills, dumps – as ugly as they are, they’re necessary. Ugly, smelly, and necessary.
But look over there, there in the park. What the?? You see that? Who in the world just leaves their garbage? Why wouldn’t they walk it the 50 feet to the garbage can and dispose of it, leaving the place as lovely as they found it?
Because they don’t have to and no one can make them so na na na na boo boo.
And that’s where I come in: Trash Girl. Seriously, I’m thinking of having a cape made. Or at least of wearing tights.
That’s right. I got me a stick with a nail on it. I’m wandering, all free-form like, amongst the trees and napkins and empty bottles, picking up garbage and humming/laughing to myself.
You find more things in the park than just paper plates.
One day, I found the world’s smelliest pillow and an empty full-sized bottle of mouthwash under a pine tree. Isn’t that charming?
The biggest thing I ever found would have to have been the possible owner of said pillow and mouthwash bottle, a man taking advantage of all the park had to offer, face down. And when I say “face down”, I mean it in all its sinus-crushing nuance. I called to him. I poked him with a stick. Nothing. I called the cops, and they sent an ambulance, and he was lifted on to a gurney and taken away, an oxygen mask over his dirty, grass-and-pebble-pocked face.
I wonder how he is? He never calls...
At any rate, I’ll be out there again this afternoon. It’s not hard to do, and the alcohol-poisoned are not even a yearly feature, which is both a relief and a disappointment in a you’ll-never-believe-who-I-ran-into-today kind of way.
And if you see a woman in a cape, flitting about the park, stabbing at garbage and laughing at her own jokes, say “hey”.
She’s sanitizing, for your protection.
Winter mornings and pottery
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