Bin Night

The long weekend is a bit like jet-lag, don’t you think?

Oh, don’t get me wrong! I would never be so stupid as to bag our a long weekend. They are wonderful and if I had my way, we would all work a 4 day week. But there is always a period of 24 hours following a ling weekend that causes a small amount of chaos at our joint.

Because Monday morning is BIN DAY.

And we were away this weekend. As we arrived home on the Monday, we had a ever growing feeling of dread as we noticed the streets were lined with otto bins.

WITH THEIR LIDS OPENED!

Which means only one thing.

WE HAVE MISSED BIN NIGHT.

Missing bin night pisses me off in the following ways.

  • Waste build up.
  • Stink
  • Higher chance of the cat spreading said waste build up over the lawn. Like a Labrador might do.
  • Remembering your fuck up every time you go to take the bin out.
  • Squashing down the bin bags, getting hit across the face with a waft of pong and if you are really, REALLY unlucky, getting mystery bin juice on your person. This runs second to my pet hate, which is when I open the ring pull on the cat food, only to be greeted with a spurt of cat food juice on my face. And even once, ON MY LIP! #vom
  • Having to sneak rubbish out and dispose of in public bins, which I know one should not do… desperate times etc.
  • Trying to sneak extra rubbish into other peoples bins next Sunday night under the cover of darkness, which is akin to stealing I suppose.
It all takes me back to the time, about 11 years ago, when we missed bin night. I heard the truck coming down the back ally and raced out in my jammies to see that it has passed our place. My neighbour Craig was also standing in the ally watching the truck depart. Dressed only in a brief pair of briefs.

We looked at each other, despondent.

And then he cried “Fuck this….” and took off down the alleyway barefoot, as fast as Usain Bolt, two otto bins being dragged along reluctantly, like one sees when you watch people take their dogs into the vet.

He caught them right at the end of the road and I watched on, jealously, as his bins were lifted and emptied. He walked back triumphantly, and asked why I didn’t race after the bin.

I told him, because I did not have a bra on and having a full bin was better than having two black eyes.

So anyway, this week I have to contend with the painful situation of having missed bin night. 

If you have any helpful suggestions on how to cope with this, please let me know!
Do you ever miss bin night?
Is it your responsibility?