This is how recycling day works: the truck comes every two weeks--Friday mornings at 9:30AM. Sean puts our giant blue bin out on the curb on Thursday night. But yesterday he came home from work sick and plopped onto the couch and so our recycling bin never made it to the street.
Fast forward to this morning. Katie woke up just as sick as Sean and so I was downstairs on the couch feeding her a bottle. Sean came downstairs after his shower wearing only pants and noticed that the recycling truck was two houses down from us already! Two hours early!
"We're going to miss recycling unless you can get the bin outside in time for the truck, it's here already and I'm not dressed!"
I was half-dressed--jeans and a shirt, no bra and no shoes--but I was determined to succeed. I gently threw the baby at Sean and rushed outside. But the truck was moving along fast and so I started shouting, "WAIT! WAIT!" as I manhandled this giant blue bin down our driveway. The truck was at our neighbor's house and I was on my way towards him. I noticed the driver was wearing earphones and was not looking at me as I shlept the monstrosity towards the street.
And then it was over. He drove past our house. I had not made it.
Defeat swept over me and I turned around and dragged the thing back towards the house. Little Dylan's head was poking up from the window watching me. I looked over at our neighbor's kitchen window and my neighbor and her kids were smiling and waving. I tried to hide my pointy boobs and my shame as I waved back. Defeat. Serious defeat.
With shoulders slumped I walked back inside and announced, "I didn't make it."
"You do know that thing has wheels right? My love was dragging it like a giant brick!" Sean joked.
And then do you know what I did? I bawled like a baby. Sean gave me a hug and a you'll gettum next time speech, thrown off guard because his wife was crying like a total luny over a bin of recycling.
"I'm so embarrased!" I said through tears. "The neighbors were laughing at me! And I'm outside with no bra on like some total idiot!" I walked into the bathroom and began picking up the kids' clothes from last night's bath. Dylan trailed behind me.
"Don't cry, Mama. You're OKay. Is this a bandaid? Can you go get my truck?"
Helluva way to start a Friday, I thought. A sick baby and a whole shit ton of defeat.
We are now watching a movie while Katie sleeps, and I've all but forgotten how upset I was about the recycling. What a weirdo. I cried over not being able to recycle.