I went to the dump today.
This might not seem like a major thing to some of you, but I don't DO garbage. I don't pick up barrels. I don't unfold or even crush cardboard boxes. I don't sort plastic, cans or glass. I don't have time for that.
Mister Bug is obsessive about the garbage. He decides when it should go to the dump, how it should be sorted, and how it should be packed in the truck. I, personally, don't much care. In my world, if I can stuff one more thing in the barrel, it's not full.
He has been talking all week about how he was going to the dump TODAY. Before he left for work at "O Dark Hundred" this morning, Mister Bug told me that he would be home promptly at 1:30pm to go to the dump. He wanted to be sure that I would be home by then with the truck. He called me at 1:05pm to tell me that he was stuck at work and would go to the dump later because it was open until 7pm tonight. (I told you he was obsessed!!) Like I care when or if he ever goes to the dump!
He sounded tired and a little overwhelmed by his day. Then - OMG!! I felt it... a twinge of guilt. (I CAN do garbage. I just don't LIKE to do it.)
I took a deep breath. I made up my mind - a little too quickly, I think. I packed the truck and I went to the dump.
I got rid of all the wrappings, the boxes, the garbage, the bottles and the cans. I recycled. I tossed household trash. I watched the giant compactor crush my stuff. It was thrilling... (not thrilling enough to get me back there any time soon, though.)
Mister Bug was shocked by my selfless act.
As he should be...
We've been married a long time. I like to keep him on his toes.