Every second Wednesday is bin day, the day I feel in control of this monstrous piece of land and its encroaching flora as all the results of the weeding, mowing, cutting and living of the last fortnight disappear into the bowels of a big red white and black truck, unambiguously labelled "THE BIN MAN". I'm at the beginning of the run, and have been asked to have my bin out by 7.30 a.m. which is no problem.
Except this morning, I overslept. Must have been all the work I did at Choir last night. Woke about 7.30, watched the news, had breakfast, was about to hit the shower when I remembered the bin. Botheration! thought I, tossing on a robe and racing outside to push it out to the footpath.
There it was, already on the footpath.
Done it in my sleep?
Left it out last night?
The lovely bin man had seen it up the drive, opened the decidedly noisy gate, wheeled it out, and emptied it for me. Maybe it was the squeak of the gate that had woken me!
You can't beat Action Bins, Locally Owned and Operated!
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