You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Wasted Time. Wasted Energy. Wasted Effort.
Time is perception. I have no time. I have all the time in the world.
What will you do with the time you have.
Will you use your time wisely?
Is maximizing time the efficient use of energy you expend? Or is that energy spent simply a waste of time, the end result of wasted effort?
What I might consider wasted time and wasted energy is someone else’s dedicated singular purpose.
Wasted energy, wasted effort, wasted time.
One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.
Some people don’t have enough time. Some people have so much time they squander it on largely ambiguous projects.
In a world where every minute of my day is filled with dedicated purpose,, some people have time to finger paint in thin air.
My world is a vinyl LP where the circular rings are concentric constructs of time. Each point on the circle has a note that represents a song played at a certain speed over time.
That is my world. A groove where every second is a beat of a day.
It’s hectic, but that is the rhythm of my life.
In a world where time is money and haste makes waste, some people are able to stop time, make it last forever, transform mountains out of mole hills.
I came across the letter recently. It is written by a woman who simply wants a recycling cart that rolls. This letter is real. My reaction to it an instantaneous ink blot of mental castigation.
Hello Curbside recycling!
I recently moved into town late this past March.
I’m all ready upset with this whiney time waster.
Why do we need to know when she moved to town? March, May, 1927. You live there, dont you?
Does it matter if she came from New York or Wisconsin? She lives in Middle Tennessee now.
And chances are she makes garbage.
My curbside recycling can has a broken wheel. Specifically, there is a little metal cap that fits on the end of the axle. At some point, before I moved in, that cap fell off and my can lost one of its wheels. Is there a way to get a replacement wheel and cap? That should fix it. Or is it easier for me to exchange cans with you guys? I can send a picture if you’d like.
Ahhhhhhhggggrrrrrhhhhh!
I could have fried an egg and washed my underpants in the sink in the time it took her to type that.
What is she meandering about? A pin? A pin is all she needs. It goes on the axle. Apparently it fell off.
Imagine that? A pin falls off a trash can wheel. That sucks. I get it.
I’m barely clinging to her vibe at this point. But then she pokes me in the face, proving she has no job and all the time in the world.
Can I send you a picture, she asks?
A picture? A picture of what?
The wheel? The Cart? The little axle cap?
The recycling people have a billion recycling carts. They have recycling carts in a warehouse like you have Dixie cups stacked in the back of your pantry.
When I buy more Dixie Cups you think I take pictures of my Dixie Cups and email them to Publix.
“Hey guys, have you ever seen Dixie cups like these?”
Also, I have a neighbor who is mooching off my recycling (and possibly trash) services. It’s to the point that she fills my cans so much that my amount of recycling and waste can barely fit. It’s really annoying and not fair to you guys either.
This is where the lady goes to the dark side. She takes a recycling detour off the deep end. it’s not only a waste of time, but it’s a failure to recognize that It’s recycling. It’s free. Carts are free. The city picks up recycling as long as you own a house and pay taxes. They want you to recycle. They want your neighbors to recycle. Who cares if your neighbor is using your can. It all goes to the same place? Oh and by the way; your neighbor is entitled to a free recycling can too. What makes you think you are so special, lady?
Trash Can Mooching. That is hilarious.
I suddenly have the urge to create a new sitcom with that title.
Trash Can Mooching: Two wanna-be actors live on the streets of L.A. picking through the trash of Beverly Hills society people trying to learn more about them through their recyclables.
Hilarious!
I’ve thought about cutting a hole in the lid and in the front-side of the can and using a bike lock or some short cable with a padlock to
secure my cans and dissuade her from mooching off my trash service. Is that acceptable or do you guys have a better solution to recommend?
Ha ha.
This is borderline trash paranoid.
Is that even municipally acceptable?
Not only is this lady wasting my time, and ragging on her neighbors trash habits, but now she’s desecrating city property.
She has a free recycling can and all she needs is a little itty bitty axle pin because her wheel is loose. But really, what we can deduce here is that she secretly detests her trash hording neighbor, who also gets a free recycling cart, but chooses to use hers.
It pisses her off. The neighbor is bringing over green glass and beer cartons. The letter writer only recycles the Wall Street Journal. Sniff. Sniff.
I get it Miss Priss, you have issues.
And now you have gone from asking for a tiny axle pin to asking if it is ok to cut a hole in a trash lid big enough to shove a bike lock through.
You are angry. You have so much free time you watch your neighbor’s every trash move. You think about destroying city property.
You are passive / aggressive and you secretly want the city’s trash police to come and cite your neighbor and tell her to leave your trash alone.
Recycling is free!
Carts are free!
This is a green city. It promotes recycling and gives away carts like the homeless shelter gives away pop tarts.
I don’t mean to rip this lady a new one. I’m sure she is a perfectly nice woman. She’s probably a grandma with a small dog and a perfectly manicured garden outside her kitchen window.
But I just wonder who has this kind of time.
I have a job that is one part fire fighter, one part lawyer, one part nuclear scientist. I am on call 24/7. I barely have time to sleep and wake up in the same 24 hour period. My time is so taxed, so leveraged, so precious, It is like invisible gold that ticks in my head.
Time is pressure, pressure is dangerous, dangerous puts you on edge.
I wish I had time to write a letter to the Recycling department about a cart’s axle pin.
Different strokes. Before I have a stroke.
Maybe the recycling lady has the right idea.
A picture window. A small yapping dog. A neighbor with a recycling problem.
Ignorance is bliss.
Bliss is time without borders, without pressure, without a recycling cart secured by a bike lock.
Life’s crazy™