And So It Goes

I finish reading this morning's newspaper, and am about to take it out to the garage to place it in the paper recycling bin, which is full from all the junk mail that has accumulated over the past three weeks when we were away on our trip.  So I commandeer the plastics recycling bin, which is only half-full, moving the plastics in it to the metal recycling bin, also half-full, and transfer the excess paper from the overfilled paper recycling bin to the plastics recycling bin.  

As I turn to leave the garage I notice that the suitcases from our recent trip have not yet been stored away.  They normally reside in the upper rack of the storage shelves against the far garage wall that I had built sixteen years ago when I retired.  I will need a stepladder to get them up there where they belong.  The stepladder is behind my wife's car, and cannot be moved unless I move the car out of the garage.  Of course, I could just open the garage door and back the car out just enough for me to get to the stepladder, but that would mean that the car would be half in and half out of the garage, with the bottom of the garage door over the midsection of the car.  

I decide that it is not a good strategy to do this. See, some years before, the garage door had slipped down without warning and made a mark, not quite a dent, but rather a noticeable abrasion, on the trunk lid of an older car we had then.  

I find that I do not have my car keys with me.  I am still in my pajamas and robe.

I go back into the house to get the car keys.  On the way to the bedroom I notice a pile of junk mail, not in the recycling bin yet because they contain questionable items bearing my name and address that really need to be shredded in the paper shredder, which is located conveniently by the table in the entrance vestibule.  Identity theft is a major concern these days, and so I try to shred everything that has my name and address on it.  I turn on the shredder and feed the pieces of mail into it, not more than six sheets at a time because the gears will bind if you overload the shredder. The process takes about six minutes, and when finished I discover that the bin beneath the shredder is full.  To make things easier on myself I normally line the bin with a plastic bag.  This time I had not done so.  

Just emptying the shredded contents of the shredder bin into the paper recycling bin, without using a plastic bag, is not a good idea.  The shreds can get blown away.  There were times when I found that, after being left out the night before the trash pickup, the uncontained paper shreds would end up all over the flower beds and the front lawn.  It was not a pleasant sight.

So I return to the garage for a large plastic bag to contain the paper shreds, and empty the contents of the shredder bin into the bag.  Then I hunt through the kitchen drawers to find a twist tie to secure it, before taking the whole thing out to the garage.  

By this time our monthly delivery of bottled water has arrived, and the six blue five-gallon bottles are sitting just outside the garage entrance.  To get the car out I must move the bottles out of the way, and into the garage.  Moving the bottles one at a time takes about three minutes, as the darn things are heavy, and my back is not as flexible as it once was.

Now I can get into the car, start the engine, and back it out onto the driveway and out of harm's way.  Now I can get the stepladder. Now I can store the suitcases where they belong.

Oh, did I mention this?  On one of my trips back into the house I noticed that one of my paintings on the wall behind the couch was a little crooked. So with a plastic bag filled with shredded paper in one hand, and car keys in the other, I had to go over and straighten it.

And so the morning goes.