A Rubbish Rant

A rubbish rant, AKA a rant about rubbish

I think there are people out there who genuinely don't understand where their trash goes. How it's handled.

They can't possibly understand because then they'd care. Ugh.

I bought a house recently. My first true home. And I keep having to clean up stupid problems that the last homeowners left for me. Like their trash.

I don't mean the house is messy. The house had no trash in it. No, the trash was all out in the bins in somehow the worst possible configurations. Bins that are now my bins, my means for throwing away my rubbish.

Things that were in the bins that should not have been in the bins:

A full bottle of cleaning vinegar, which is now mine.

A perfectly good steel saucepan, also now mine.

a box of matches, not mine but rescued nonetheless because I don't want my house chargrilled.

a THANKFULLY EMPTY, I THINK sharps container. Holy shit. I pulled it out and will google where it needs to go.

broken glass

broken ceramics

broken china

a little bone china ring holder. I was so sad about it that it's also mine now.

Basically the late owner's entire life

You see, the people who threw all of this in there were her children. It was like sifting someone's final years out of a bin.

And sifting it was. Because they didn't use bags. Which, for the non-british, means the bin folks wouldn't have collected it. Because of fucking course they wouldn't. Bin folks here grab the bags out of the bin. They don't just tip the bin into the back of a van like in America.

I'm left wondering what this haphazard cleanup crew of wayward children thought was going to happen. Were the bin folks going to painstakingly rifle through broken glass and potentially used needles (remember, sharps container) to put each and every thing in the van? No. Hell no. Mostly because it's a safety hazard, also because that would take them way too long and they are busy people. Also because they shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to but I will because hooo leeee shit. I need my bins. And unlike these adult children, I'm not going to foist this problem on someanonymous future person.

It's funny because they gave me a box of chocolates and a card to wish me well in what was their family home. They left it on the counter after they cleared out the last of their furniture (late, I should add, so it was probably mostly an apology).

For reference, a box of chocolates does not overwrite the fact that I'm spending my Sunday wondering wtf to do with a bunch of broken glass.

But really. I think some people don't realise that other humans exist. The bin is not a magic portal to nowhereland, a bag of holding that will accept any shit in any form. No. It's a step in a process that involves humans. And also anything you throw in a black bag (A BLACK BAG, PLEASE, NOT LOOSE IN THE BIN) will last forever in a landfill so maybe do not throw anything and everything in there.

Rant over. Do you like my stuff and want to say hi? Alternately, do you know how to deal with a bunch of glass and hazardous waste (SHAAAARPS BIIIIN) per Highland council rules? Please email me. Don't worry the second part is probably a joke. First part though, I love saying hi.

Email (normal): JaimieLBlack@outlook.com

Email (author stuff): author@rosalindwulf.com

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