And Then I Was Like

eContinuing my grumpy old man series, today’s topic is recycling collectors.  I am tired (old people get tired and think others care) of them throwing the bins to the curb after emptying.  The city provides the bins for “free” and I am due to go pick up my third in eight years.  If placed on the ground rather than thrown, we’d still be enjoying the bin that was left in the garage when we bought our home.  As it is, and I am just estimating here, the city has spent $10 replacing the bins slowly destroyed over time by mishandling.  A little more  estimating.  Albany has roughly 75,000 people.  Let’s place them two to a home to arrive at 37,500 homes times $10 in bin expense to get $375,000 over eight years, or $46,875 each year.  Maybe enough to pay the salary of one recycling collector (or the part of the payment that goes to the third party providing the service).  It all adds up to either higher taxes or fewer employees, neither of which any local should get very excited about.  And I don’t stop with numbers.  I go straight to doom’s day thinking when it comes to mixing it up in traffic.  So help me, if I get in an accident while going to pick up the new bin…  place the bins on the ground already!

Happily, it isn’t all grey skies and mud puddles for this mopey chap.  As I sat on the couch at 5:00 this morning I watched the garbage collector (not the recycling team) pick up trash that had blown around during last night’s storm, gently shake our can into the truck, then do it again to get out all the stuck bits, then place our can back on the curb.  That’s the ticket mister!  He’s been reading his person hole covers!  c

Anything else?  How about the swell ride above?  Love ’em unrestored and this one is so menacing (probably because it was lowered).  But the fire lane?  Is there any car cool enough to make blocking a fire lane ok?  If so, let’s write it into the code.  Look at the acres of open lot visible just behind the car!  There really are acres–an acre isn’t as big as I used to think.  I remember hearing about 80 acre plots.  Farmers would have multiples.  I pictured expansive prairies as far as the eye could see.  Goole maps would have set me straight.  Back on track.  I’d venture to say I love my car as much as this person (I am really sick for it), but I save my tool-like behavior for other venues.  When it comes to caring about my car, I park it way the heck away from other cars (in a single space–taking up two or four spaces is also super tool-like–I loved it when I saw a Bentley parked at the local high end strip mall with the rest of the cars–could you really let your Civic door swing into such a work of art?).  Harrumph!

Wow.  I am especially unimpressed by this post (except for the photo of Frida looking like a happy bomb with a fuse about to burn its way into a tightly compressed mess of ecstasy), but with no incentive to trash it I’ll track pad my way over to the publish button and move on with my day.

Be well.

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