Note to self: Do not allow yard waste containers to collect rainwater.
Last night, I had such a good plan. I took some pictures of my 2020-ravaged back yard (yes, I am going to blame it on the year, although we all know it was my own neglect) as “Before” shots. Then I was going to get some yard work done and make a blog post about it. I knew I could not get to a point where “After” shots would be possible, but I had hopes of making progress. So far, so good. I started raking leaves. Ah, here was one of the plastic trash cans I use for yard waste. I’ll just rake these over here and…
Most of my plastic trash cans have developed cracks and holes to let the raiwater out, but some have not. This was was over half filled with water and I THOUGHT I saw a portion of furry back floating there. EEEWWWWW! I could not even look closely enough to be sure. In addition to being a big fat baby in general, I am extremely squeamish when it comes to dead critters. I went up on the deck and peeked over the edge. EEWWW! I ran for my husband.
“HONEY! I think there’s something dead in the trash can!” Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong!
I was not wrong. Steven came out and dumped the can. Why I felt unable to do it myself is something I cannot explain. Oh, how awful! It was stiff. It was bloated. It was NAAAAASTY! At first I could not even tell it was a squirrel.
I got a trash bag and fetched a snow shovel that was still on the deck. Why, oh why, can I not be one of those people who is unfazed by these things? Steven wielded the shovel. I held the bag. I poked the nasty thing with a stick to get it on the shovel. We got it into the bag without actually touching it. I put it in our garbage can. I was traumatized. Steven was regretting that we ever bought a house.
And here is another thing about be: Even as it was happening, I was composing this blog post in my head.
The disgusting experience had quite the detrimental effect on my motivation. However, I made an effort to get started. I filled three trash cans with leaves, including the can I had started the day before. I made a small pile of sticks which were too thick to break down easily.
I came across another container with water in it. It had a lid, but the lid had come partially ajar. I emptied this one myself, with some trepidation. It only had a little trash in it. Phew!
I made sure to put lids on all the containers I had lids for, except one whose lid was in a hard to reach spot. Well, what kind of miracles of dedication and efficiency do you want from me? Anyways, that was one of the cans with a big old crack on the side. Who knew defective trash cans could be such a comfort?
I did not feel I had made much progress. For one reason, I did not put in nearly the amount of time I had at first envisioned. What can I say? Dead rodents have that effect on me. I hope to have recovered sufficienly to have at it again tonight, but since I also hope to go running, no promises. Additionally it is supposed to be a delightful evening to sit on one’s front porch and just enjoy. I must weigh my options carfully.