I infrequently share stories like these because of the utter embarrassment. However, this story further explains my outdoor neurosis so I feel that its telling is necessary.
Last Saturday, I worked up the courage to go take care of some things in the front yard. Normally, I don’t do things like this because I have this phobia of neighbors watching and laughing. I have no manner of common sense and I can just hear all the voices in my head laughing at the way I’m trimming the shrubs or planting the bushes. My little sister tells me this neurosis is my dad’s fault, but I don’t know. I do have a certain lack of necessary dexterity.
But, I worked up my courage, fought every urge I had to run kicking and screaming back into the house, and I wandered into the front yard with my gardening gloves on.
First things first: get rid of the dead shrubs. They are ugly. I start hacking and cutting and finally have a nice mound of dead branches in the driveway. What to do with all this mess? I’ll put it in the trash! I have trash bags!
But wait! Why use trash bags? At the side of the house is a nice pretty blue dumpster with wheels. I’ll just wheel it around to the driveway and throw everything directly into it. The neighbors will think I’m a genius!
Off I strut to the side of the house with hands full of branches and a determined eye on retrieving the trash can. I swing open the lid and throw the current branches I have into the trash.
I get behind the trash can and proceed to roll it towards the driveway. I didn’t close the lid, because I’d end up just having to re-open it again at the ultimate destination. This is a bad idea. I suspect you folks who were lucky enough to be born with common sense already knew this or could logically workout that it’s not a good idea.
If you have a look at the trash can pictured here, you can see that the end of the lid hovers just above the ground when it’s in the open position.
Working valiantly to keep my outdoor neurosis at bay and (in my own head) being ultimately efficient in my trash removal methodologies, I stood behind the trash can, grabbed with both hands and started to push.
After my first or second step, I managed to step on the lid. This magical feat resulted in the lid, which is attached to the handles, tugging things to the ground at an alarming and uncontrolled speed. Next thing I know, my knuckles are being driven into the walking path and I’m diving headfirst into the trashcan.
And, in my neurosis driven mind, all my neighbors are being highly entertained. I haven’t worked in my yard since.