A couple of times a year, each district has a grand trash day allowing resident to toss all of their large items out on the curb for a special trash pick-up.
For many, this is an opportunity to engage in extreme sports. One year, I barely made it out of our front door, before being pounced on by men and women alike who ravaged my arms of the burden I carried. It was only fortunate that I was kicking trash to the curb and not heading off with goodies for some friend; I would have had to enter battle mode. Although these vultures cleaned my carcass within seconds, not one relived me of any of my emotional baggage that I have been carting around for decades. Each of the carrion seemed to have a surplus of their own.
Yesterday was the semi-annual ‘kick it to the curb’ day, so the piles were tremendous. The whooping and hollering outside the window would have made one thing there was a festival occurring on the street. In a sense there was.
I like to dub these days “Flea Market Shopping”. I have actually seen people bring their own folding chair to sit near and protect their own pile of junk until the their recovery team arrives to haul it away. You can see fights break out when territories are not observed properly. It is live theater and street performances combined.
In some areas, the sidewalk has been obliterated with the rummaging of the crowds. This makes it particularly dangerous for pedestrians who not only have to weave through the detritus, but also have their hands up in the air in a surrender motion, signally that you are only trying to make your way through and not trying to stake a claim.
Least anyone thinks this is for the rough and rugged only, I ask you “Do you know where your grandma was yesterday?” If you see what she has her eye on, it just may give you some ideas of what she REALLY wants for Christmas this year.