I thought recycling was supposed to be good?

Because I'm pretty sure it's going to be the downfall of my marriage. Zach has minimal jobs around the house. Pretty much all he has to do is change the kitty litter, and take out the garbage and the recycling.

We're going to Mexico on Friday and we have housesitters coming to stay with the kitties. So I'm cleaning like mad so it looks like my house is always neat and tidy. I go to take out some recycling, and low and behold, the bin is full...and it's recycling day. Now when I say bin, I don't mean a rubbermaid tub.

I mean the wood bin that Zach built that holds 5 of those giant blue boxes (the ones we aren't allowed to use anymore that are about 2.5 feet tall). The bin is so full, that the lid won't lay flat. Clearly, the recycling hasn't been taken out for, oh about three months.

So I look at my watch and realize I have about two hours before the recycling douches come (I have a love hate relationship with the recycling guys. I love that they pick up the recycling by the curb, but I hate pretty much everything else about them. If you looked up douche bag in the dictionary, their picture would be there).

Anyway, back to the story. I run in (still in my pj's), give Jude a bottle and put him down. I know I have 1 hour, 45 minutes to get the recycling down to the street. Keep in mind there's almost an acre between our house and the street, and the truck has the camper on it so I can't use to haul all this shit down there.

I spend the next hour sorting it all out (because in addition to it being full, it's also not sorted at all. It's not even in the bins, just tossed in there). I fit it all in random cardboard boxes and the two smaller containers that they'll take.

I have a few last pieces of cardboard, and I jam them in the big container, thinking maybe out of the kindness of their heart, they'll take them, even though they're in the wrong container (I thought wrong). I get all this shit off the porch and our landlord comes and saves the day. He offered to take them to the curb in his truck, thus saving me hauling 7 containers of recycling to the curb (I'm still in my pj's and now I'm sweating like a pig).

I go back inside to hear Jude hollering at the top of his lungs. He'd clearly been awake for a while and was not impressed that I hadn't come to get him up. So now I'm standing in the kitchen, sweat running down my face, my pjs are filthy, I smell like a bottle depot and I'm holding a crying baby and now the phone is ringing.

It's Zach.

him "watcha doing?"

me "wondering how I'll be able to afford to live when I divorce you...did you forget (again) that it's recycling day????

He will now owe me for months, and if he forgets to take it out again, I might forget to make dinner for a few weeks :)

He's lucky he's cute