A Woman Scorned...

I can't wait for tomorrow morning. No it's not Christmas Eve, though truth to tell the year is simply doing a fly-by. No, it's Bin Day. I have spoken before, about the way that this regular day of the week still manages to catch us out. But that's not it. And it's not going to catch us out tomorrow...

Two weeks ago, dear Readers, I transgressed. I carelessly put a scrunched up piece of black tissue paper into the Brown bin: the one that takes, glass, cardboard and plastic. Most of us can barely get our heads round the logic of combining this odd assortment of disparate materials. But we do our best to toe the line and do our bit for re-cycling.
CONTAMINATED slapped across the top of the bin. Public humiliation. The neighbours wondering what the heck I could possibly have put in my Brown bin. A small scrunched up piece of black tissue paper! I want to cry. I am hopping mad. The bin is filled to capacity and is humming in the heat wave (which is now so over). So for the past two weeks I have been filling black plastic bags with everything that I would have been placing in the brown bin. In readiness for tomorrow.

So tomorrow morning I will be up with the lark. I will be watching those pesky Bin Men as they peer into my bins, as I passively aggressively water my front borders. At the first whiff of a problem I will appear behind my large watering can and remove any offending articles that I may have missed (though frankly, I have given them such close scrutiny that I had to take a shower afterwards). They will empty the bin. I will wait until they are out of sight, then I will quickly fill my bin with all the crud I've collected over the past two weeks and I will wheel it across the road and leave it on the corner opposite which they will then collect on the next part of their round. Ha!

I can't bloody wait. Just don't mess with me. I'm a woman on a mission.