my favorite day of the week

i'm not working for the weekend

Days of the week all have their cache.

Some are living for Fridays.

Others work for the weekend.

Monday jokes at the office?

They are about as cleaver as coffee jokes.

Just thinking about cliche Monday jokes makes me want to kick a puppy.

Don’t make cliche Monday jokes if you like puppies.

Really.

Once upon a time when I worked as an arts educator, the entire arts department of ten teachers all loved Wednesdays.

Well.

They claimed to love Wednesday nights.

Wednesday, or ‘hump day’ was a day for humping.

This was discussed every Thursday morning in the arts office.

In fact, these teachers had a contest. The teacher who reported getting laid the most during the year won a prize.

Yes they kept track.

Yes there was a bar graph.

No, the students didn’t know about it.

I use the word ‘reported’ because no proof in the form of photographs, video or used prophylactics was required. A kind of ‘orgasm honour system’ was in place.

While at that school teachers were dropping a load on Wednesday night, my Wednesday nights were in preparation getting a load ready for my favorite day of the week.

Garbage day.

I love garbage day.

I love that I can go out in the morning, wheel a bin full of crap that’s clogging up my life and confusing my weird wired mind and make it go where it needs to go: AWAY.

I also love that in my part of the world, garbage is put out in clear plastic bags.

They’re pretty serious in these parts about separating waste. Only things that can’t be composted or recycled

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are allowed in the clear ‘garbage’ bags.

As I’ve mentioned before. I’m nosey. I’m also a bit judgmental too. I like to see what kind of shit people have in their homes. I love seeing what kind of shit people throw away and make horrible judgements of people.

This is likely why, in my part of town, most people hide their garbage bins.

It’s a funny thing. Waste bins are typically kept in a back yard, shed or garage. You’ll rarely find them beside a house. No one on our street, other than us, keeps their bins right out front.

It seems in this tony little professional enclave, the better than thous like to keep their garbage hidden.

Folks around here seem to like to pretend that they don’t have trash, are not trash and that their farts smell like a fine merlot.

Me?

I’m not willing to pretend that I don’t have my garbage. Filth is part of being alive. Creating regular waste is essential to human functioning. Don’t believe me? Try to refrain from taking a shit for a month. Let me know how it goes.

But with some of these olde tymie professional boomers? They seem to like to play pretend.

But in the end, every week has a Thursday.

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Every week the bins of shame come rolling out from back yards across the neighbourhood.

And every week, my walk to work stinks.

When it comes to the filth of your life, how hidden do you keep it?

How private are you with your depravity?

How hidden are your perversions?

How dirty and stinky is your shadow?

How hard do you work to hide it?

What’s it like when others see it?

And,

Do your neighbours ask you to keep it hidden?

They did for us.

So now the bins are in the front yard.

1. When it comes to things made of plastic, ‘recycled’ means sent to another part of the world and incinerated. Plastics get recycled into heat through a process called ‘burning’. Stop wasting your recycling plastics. You only increase your carbon footprint as most are sent far away from you. What’s more, you waste water, soap and time washing them.

2. yes Heather, I know, your trash goes out on Friday. But for those of us a few streets down, it’s Thursday. Humour me.