Inspiration can strike you in the most bizarre ways sometimes, as I recently found out today telling somebody about my weekend. My highlight, oddly enough, of my rather uneventful few days of freedom, was lugging some old tin guttering and soaked through cardboard to the local tip. This somebody, of whom I was telling this to with great zeal, proceeded to respond that the tip smells really bad and my little visit there sounded boring. Well, okay, fair enough, going to the tip does sound like a boring mundane thing to do on your weekend, but thinking back on it, to me, it was pretty darn cool.
I don’t know, perhaps it’s just my overactive imagination taking over again, but I found it to be quite the adventure.
Firstly, I donned some roughly worn and dirt covered gardening gloves to manhandle that guttering and cardboard into the back of my brother’s work van, finding some mutant sized rats underneath, and a scared little toad that proceeded to wee itself when my brother picked it up, me racing for a plastic bag to tie it up in and place it humanly in the freezer (rousing on myself for my fleeting, momentary thought of just throwing it on the road for some car to run over). Then we closed the back door and I tried to hop into the passenger seat with both hands preoccupied with my sand shoes and a water bottle (it took me two times, I soon figured out that I just couldn’t jump that high).
Then it was off to the secret location of the tip, the van smelling of soil and wet cardboard, the terrible suspension bouncing me out of my seat as we lurched over an unwelcome speed bump, out of our neighbourhood and onto the open road. The tip, like an impenetrable fortress, loomed ahead, high gates and a man in a building checkpoint awaited us. Like a coded message we were asked to follow the green line to take us to the appropriate area, and we arrived at the towering scrap pile of old refrigerators and washing machines and random bits of metal. We threw the gutting out of the back with great enthusiasm on my part, after all the carelessness of just chucking something and hearing the satisfying clang of it landing, with no regard for where it ends up, my jeans with dirt patches, the warms sun turning my skin a healthy brown, or at least I hoped a healthy brown, at that moment it just looked red and mottled…anyways, it’s cathartic. Like a he-man I threw those gutters, a great way to release suppressed anger, that is if you’re not just finding it fun like I was.
And as we lumbered on to Subway for a sandwich, I could eat that sandwich with gusto knowing I earned it through some good old manual labor. So there person who denied the fun of going to the tip. Use your imagination! I haven’t written anything on this blog for weeks and it’s the humble old tip that inspired me to do so.
But, yeah, I probably wouldn’t go again. That would just destroy the novelty.