Feeling Trashy (Guest post)

Note: Thank Ba-Jeebus our dear friend Alice Brody from Down the Rabbit Hole was feeling creative and generous enough to provide us with today's guest post. Take it away, Alice...

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Feeling Trashy

I have a lot to remember in a day. Shit, I have a lot to remember in one HOUR. Pay the bills, pack the lunches, spank a child or two, dentist appointment at 9:00 for...???, pay taxes, change the oil, change a diaper, make a power point presentation on Laos for Thursday night class....or is it Tuesday night class???, buy makeup remover (never gonna happen, I'm afraid), eat obscene amounts of chocolate, this one needs picture money, that one needs popcorn money.....ever changing and never ending list of things I must remember.

You'd think the one thing that I would never ever forget to do is take an active role in ensuring the shitty diapers and left over fried chicken make it to the curb for pick up day. Nah. Preparation and organization are for suckers. Here's how I role......

We begin with my 7 year old coming back from the bus stop to inform me that "IT'S TRASH DAY AND THE TRUCK IS 2 DOORS DOWN FROM OUR HOUSE!!!". Upon hearing this news I proceed to run flailing out of the house with the half full trash can (because I mean, who actually puts all their garbage IN the trash can???? Much cooler to put it right inside the garage and vow to put it in the trash can at some point before trash day and then never actual follow through so the garage ends up with a nice Sanford and Sons feel to it.).

Next, I scream "SONOFABITCH!!!" as I realize the truck that's 2 doors down isn't the trash truck but the recycling truck (and by the way it's now 1 door down). So then I haul ass back to the garage to fill the empty recycling bin (because again, who actually puts their recycling IN the bin until trash day, right???). Trash flying, I race back to the curb just in time to slam into the recycling man and apologize profusely for my tardiness and obvious short comings as a self sufficient single Mother. OK, I didn't literally say that but I think it was implied with the look on my face.

The absolute most crucial part of this scenario comes in the wardrobe planning. It is a must that the night before trash day I jammie up in a seriously unflattering wife beater t-shirt and (if you know me you know what's coming) hard core full on granny panties. Top it with a heavily stained robe (sans belt) and viola! So, barefoot and foaming at the mouth (did I mention my teeth have yet to be brushed?), I rush madly to the curb being sure to hold the recycling against my body so that my robe doesn't fly open. Unparalleled uber gracefulness. Also, the smudged mascara and ratted up bed head perfect the look and take me to a whole other level of sophistication. I'm pretty sure I might have inspired the recycling man to ask me out. Not only that but I'm positive my neighbors think I'm a winner because of my total lack of composure and random Tourette-like bellowing of some of my favorite naughty words. Yeah, they like me now. It's official. They're gonna make me the neighborhood mascot and throw parties in my honor.

I try and I try but it seems every time I gain a new piece of information to remember I trash info that's already in there. There just isn't a fuck ton of space left in this here brain of mine. I'm ok with that...but I think I will try a little harder to remember to at least strap on some fancy granny panties for trash day;D

Make me feel better. Tell me something you forget to do that leaves you feeling incompetent and, dare I say, human. Also, think green and be nice to leprechauns. Peace out.