"A small one-man fighter should be able to penetrate the outer defense." - General Dodonna (Star Wars)
Today I left home with a little grocery bag (the green kind that costs 99 cents). I brought it out with the expectation of buying tonic water, limes, and BBQ corn chips (see Day 2). I ended up not purchasing any of those items and thus, write Day 3 stone cold sober. Sort of.
With no open trash cans and no shopping spree, I found myself using the bag as my own little garbage tote. When I got home, I was fairly astonished at how lackluster my garbage production can be on a typical day:
Plastic Starbucks cup
Nivea water bottle
Extra Gum wrapper
Flyer for some play I wasn’t going to go to
Bank machine receipt
Debit receipt for a white shirt
If garbage is any indication of a man (“man”), frig I’m boring. Uninterested with my on-the-go garbage and needing personality vindication, I decided to look into the bin under the kitchen sink—which has not been taken out since Monday. It smelled a bit, but Honourable Mayor David Miller told me to keep my trash inside for a week: maybe it’s the 25% Greek in me, but if Leonadis’s 300 Spartans could rally around a leader at the Battle of Thermopylae, why the hell can’t I support my elected official (I didn’t vote) in the Battle of the City (needs a better name)? The Casa Blanca apartment complex doesn’t have compost, so pardon the lack of green-savvy, but here’s what’s in the kitchen sink garbage as of now:
Corn husks and Various Vegetable parts
A burned CD labeled “White People Music Mix #2”
A snapped screwdriver
Something I can’t identify and don’t remember throwing in the garbage.
My house garbage is far cooler. This is the sort of thing that leaves some questions! This is the sort of thing that TMZ would report! Also, it sort of reads like a list of possible murder weapons for the board game Clue.
As for the civic update, things didn’t seem that filthy on the streets today. I jogged in a park that was still litter free, and the only thing that seemed out of place on the Toronto streets was a pile of dog shit in front of a Toronto Star Newspaper box (though this may have been a dash of biting media commentary—I noticed no such defecation at the Globe and Mail box).
I don’t know what I was expecting today, and day three was a bit anticlimactic on the garbage front. The drama has yet to crest in mid-town unless you have kids in daycare, in which case, your Day 3 blog would probably be far more interesting to read (the home garbage to my portable garbage, if you will).
Tomorrow, I’m going to the reported mother of temporary dumps: Christie Pitts.