#then take the trash and recycling to the curb

[menlove]

I hate being an adult I think having to do chores after getting home from work should be illegal

[dirk-d-dirk]

my mom was spirling yesterday all because of having to mow the lawn. So I made a comment I can do it on my next day off (today) if I'm not tired from working these 8+ hour shifts each day. It is now my day off and shes bugging me to do it. Even though its super hot outside and she knows I'm doing laundry rn so Id have to do it in my pjs???

[thisisadecisionimayregret]

can the ppl in this goddamn city stop throwing their trash in random recycling bins for like five fuckin minutes, i am about to commit Violence

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

ugh god i feel like I just have no more energy

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 9 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Words: 3500

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, age gap

You poked at the well done chicken cutlet on your plate as you sat in front of the television with a tray. As much as you thought you were keeping your emotions in check, your mother picked up on your body language from across the room.

“Is something wrong?” She asked out of the blue.

“Me?” Your oblivious father asked with a mouthful of baked potato.

“No,” she shook her head and your eyebrows raised as she motioned toward you with her fork.

“Oh, I'm.. no I'm fine.” You stuttered on your words.

“You're not. What's the matter?”

“It's nothing, Mom.”

She squinted her eyes a bit and you knew she didn't believe you, but she backed off and began sawing away at her chicken. As much as you wanted to sit and enjoy some downtime with the two of them, you just couldn't help the feeling that weighted down your core.

I should be making Joel dinner right now.

You were pouting and you knew it. Reeling it in felt impossible. Despite more looks from your mother, she backed off on the questions for the time being and took it upon herself to clear your plate when you finished eating.

“Do you mind taking the trash cans to the curb?” She asked, prompting you to give a nod.

“No problem.” You wandered through the house and into the garage to retrieve them before clicking the button to open the bay door.

As you dragged the two black pails behind you, your eyes couldn't help but land on the pair of cars in Joel's driveway, one of them being the BMW that was parked beside his truck.

You glanced up at the darkening sky and the thought of her spending the night made you want to cry. Just when you were beginning to feel content, Joel’s wife is back in the picture.

You set the garbage cans down at the top of the driveway and then began walking back for the recycling bin. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you pulled it out.

Joel.

Your heart fluttered and you hurried to answer, keeping your voice quiet despite being alone outside.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” his voice was low and you could barely make him out.

“Hi.” You took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” Joel said. “I was looking forward to tonight.”

A shot of relief entered your body but the dread and disappointment still outweighed it. Still, it was something.

“Me too,” you confessed.

After a short pause, Joel continued. “I just wanted to assure you over the phone that I am not with Cecille. We aren't getting back together.”

“Okay.” You breathed again and a little more life entered your body. “I, um…” you didn't know what to say. There was a nagging question that you managed to squeak out. “Is she spending the night with you?”

Fuck. You hated asking. Even more, you didn't want to know the answer.

“With me?” He spoke a little louder. “No. I'm trying to get her to go to a hotel.”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to figure this out.”

“It's fine. We can maybe.. get together and talk about it sometime soon. Tomorrow?”

“I got the recycle,” your dad suddenly called from the garage.

Your eyes widened and you nodded, calling out. “Okay, thanks Dad.”

“Let's go to texts,” Joel suggested.

“Okay. Bye.” You hung up and smiled at your father. “I'll get it, Dad.” You took the bin from his hands despite his mild protest and walked it up to the curb.

“You sure you're okay, kiddo?” He called after you.

“Yeah I'm fine.” You rejoined him in the driveway and accepted a hug. “Just a weird, in between time I guess.”

“I get it. Being fresh out of college and back with your folks can be a.. bummer.” The last word made you both chuckle. “Or whatever you kids say.”

“Yeah I don't know. I’ll be alright. I have an interview coming up.”

“Great, close by?”

“Next town over.” You smiled. “I couldn't go very far.”

“Well, good luck. I'm sure you'll do great.” He patted you on the back now and trailed in you through the garage and back inside. “You've got your whole life ahead of you. Save some money living with your mother, and I and then don't go too far once you're a big time detective.”

You laughed and nodded. “Deal.” At the same time your phone went off again.

Can you meet me at the parking lot at Wolf’s Ledge State Park?

It was instant butterflies and an instant ‘Yes!’ on the text message back. You picked up your step once back inside and retrieved your keys and bag with your wallet in it.

“Are you going somewhere?” Your mother asked while your father retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

“Yeah.” You gave a nod.

“Where to?”

“Hiking.”

“(Y/N), it's going to be dark soon.” Her eyes read the ticking clock.

“I'm fine,” you assured her, “Going with a small group and I have my pepper spray.”

You weren't fooling your mother, and you knew it.

“Do you have some secret romance going on that we don't know about?” She was half-kidding, but you nearly shuddered.

“I'm going hiking, Mom.” You gave a little grin and practically skipped toward the door.

“Let her be,” your father urged, prompting a look from your mother.

“Check in, please,” she said adamantly.

“I will.” You gave a nod and then hurried outside to get into your car.

Joel's truck was still parked in the driveway as you pulled out, passing his house in the process. You took a deep breath and cruised your way toward Wolf’s Ledge.

You closed your eyes and sat back in the driver’s seat for a moment, allowing yourself thirty seconds to breathe. As you were mentally ordering yourself to relax again, the opposite happened when Joel’s truck rolled to a halt beside you. A ball cap was pulled down low toward his eyes, topping his shaggy hair and he gave a glance in your direction.

He looks good. You loved how he looked in a baseball hat.

When he opened the door and rounded the truck, your stomach grew tighter and any words you had planned to try putting into coherent sentences had all but abandoned your brain. The feeling deepened when he approached the car. You rolled your window down. Joel placed both of his hands on the top of the door and leaned in through the open window. Without hesitation his lips found yours and everything felt alright.

"I'm sorry about tonight and… everything, honey.” His gravelly voice and term of endearment sent the same shivers down your spine as always. The feeling he gave you had not yet subsided. In fact, you felt like it escalated every time you were together.

"It's okay." You barely smiled. It was genuine but troubled. You couldn't help but feel a little elated when Joel kissed you, but the background noise was deafening.

"I, uh, had a million fuckin' things to say," Joel began, "But I can't think of any of 'em now." He glanced over his shoulder around the wooded, gravel lot. "Feel like taking a short drive?"

You were more than eager to go with Joel anywhere he wanted to take you. "Sure." You killed the engine to your car, grabbed your purse and then locked up the vehicle before following Joel to his truck in the next space over.

You hurried toward the passenger side and hoisted yourself up into the truck as he did the same on the opposite side. The truck's interior lingered with Joel’s scent, and it was intoxicating. Everything about him heightened the urges that you already thought about far too often.

Had it been anyone else, you would have asked where you were going. With Joel it didn't matter. He could have hightailed the truck to Mexico and wouldn't have questioned it as long as you were together.

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" he asked as if he could read your thoughts. Joel glanced over once when you didn't respond as he cruised the truck toward the exit of the parking lot.

You shrugged. "Wherever it is, is fine." You turned to him, intrigued now that he had brought it up, "Where are we going?"

"Fishing spot I go to around the corner," Joel informed you without hesitation, "Been going since I was a kid." He turned to you again, "It's quiet."

You nodded in agreement and moved your arm abruptly when Joel hit the button on his side to open your window.

"Sorry," he said simply, though you immediately let your arm dangle partway out, tapping your fingers against the side of the truck as he drove.

"It's fine." You swallowed, thinking for the first time that the air felt thick between you. Your conversations were typically easy and loose. The ride to the fishing spot felt tense and neither of you spoke much. Joel never turned the radio on. You didn't know if it was on purpose or if his thoughts were too loud for him to even think about putting on some music as a distraction.

He stared out the windshield and you stared out the open passenger window. Each of you took turns, like a song in rounds, taking heavy breaths or sighs. You suspected Joel wasn't the best at indulging in his feelings, and neither was you. Both of you would have been comfortable carrying on as you had been - carefree with big smiles for one another and blissfully content in each other's arms. Still, that wouldn't have been possible forever with all of the underlying issues and uncertainties swirling silently around you.

When the truck finally cruised past a sign showing a second entrance to the park, Joel pointed up the way.

"You’ve been coming here since you were little?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he gave a single nod and took the dirt road in.

You let out a deep breath you were unable to hold in and then swallowed hard. When Joel's truck finally rolled to a halt in another dirt lot overlooking a small lake with scattered cottages across the way you weren't sure what to think or feel.

Joel killed the engine and then turned to you immediately, extending an arm partway across the back of your seat and leaning the other against the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry,” he said again.

“You didn't do anything wrong.”

Joel's eyes squinted and he glanced down and then immediately back up. "I want this. I want you and us. Nothing has changed.. not for me.”

“It hasn't changed for me either.” You shook your head.

Us... Your heart fluttered from the way he joined the two of you together. .You let out a breath through your nose.

"Your wife," you began.

"Ex..." Joel swallowed hard.

"What does that mean with regard to... us?"

"Well, that all depends."

"On what?"

"On you."

Your eyes widened a bit. "On me?"

Joel scratched his beard and let out a deep breath. "Look, I'm in the process of ending my marriage legally. You're young and free and able to do whatever the hell you want. I should be fuckin' telling you to forget about all this but honestly,” he sighed, "I don't want you to forget about it. I love knowing you want me just as bad as I want you. Since the night I saw you sitting out on that step in your parents' back yard I have been in the best damn fuckin' mood."

You knew your face was filled with shock. Hearing him say those words reassured your contentment in the relationship. A part of you was scared he might have wanted to break things off.

Your heart and your hormones easily drowned out any negativity and you suddenly wore a big smile. A flush of red rushed into your cheeks and you looked down as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Your turn." Joel waited for your to look back up at him, and when your eyes met his you couldn't help yourself. Rather than respond you leaned across the truck to leave a long, needy kiss on his lips.

"I just needed to know that," you told him, separating your lips from his before going back in to kiss him again with more urgency, "I've never felt like this before and I'm not willing to let you go."

"Does it bother you?" Joel asked, pulling you back to him by the back of your head so your lips connected again. You kissed him hard and almost didn't stop.

"I was nervous before I talked to you tonight,” you admitted, “But I feel better now.”

He cleared his throat and twisted his hat around backwards, looking you directly in the eye as he spoke. Joel looked your up and down a moment, "I'm fuckin' addicted to you honey. I look forward to this in a way that I haven't looked forward to anything in awhile.” He leaned his head all the way back, putting his hands behind his head with a deep sigh. His eyes never left yours.

You swallowed hard. Everything he said aloud were feelings you could openly relate to, and the boyish image of him with the backwards hat that accompanied his otherwise manly features, left you aching to act on all of your hormonal urges.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you finally took control and slid across the into the driver's seat, straddling him there so you were face to face.

Joel's hands immediately dropped to your waist, one snaking up the back of your shirt as your lips connected again. "I fucking love," he kissed your again, "...how you take charge."

"Is this going to work?"you asked quietly as he began to kiss your neck before peeling off your shirt.

"Yes." Joel breathed the word against your lips and kissed you again, peeling down the front of your bra as he did.

You closed your eyes as his mouth latched onto your breast. "Mmm..” you moaned. “Okay."

"If you're okay, I'm okay."

You decided to speak his language and chuckled into his ear, "Fuck yeah I am."

Joel chuckled back and pulled away to look directly at you again. "That's my girl."

His girl. You would never get sick of that phrase.

“I want to be your girl.”

“That's what you are.”

“Mmm..” you gave him a long closed-mouth kiss and pulled back.

Joel reached around your body and turned off the truck. He then glanced around the immediate area out the window, seemingly pleased by the desolate nature of the darkening surroundings and nodded his head toward the lake.

“Come on.” He popped open the door and began to help you off his lap.

You followed his lead, but couldn't help but ask. "Where are we going?"

"If I tell you I'll have to kill you."

"Then I'll die happy." When he turned, you grinned and Joel smiled back as he already began to peel off his shirt as he hopped out of the truck.

You only walked a short distance further before hitting a small clearing by the side of the lake. "This is where I usually come to fish." Joel turned his head and smirked again, "I rarely cross paths with anyone."

"Hmm..." You let a smile spread across your face and then giggled when he tossed his shirt to the ground and began to undo his pants.

"What's, uh... what's the plan?" You asked

"Take off your clothes."

Your eyes scanned the immediate area and you let out a loud, unexpected laugh when Joel pulled you to him, clad in nothing but his boxer-briefs with his pants around his ankles. When he almost fell from the lack of balance he snickered and pulled your face to his so your lips playfully collided.

"No one comes here," he reiterated in a whisper, still grinning before kissing you a little harder.

You couldn't deny him when he kissed you that way, or when he showed his playfully aggressive side. In fact it almost made you worship him further and without another thought you attempted to pull off your bra.

"This is nice," Joel toyed with the strap. Before you could respond he had the back of it unclipped and easily let it slide off your arm.

He scooped you off the ground by the backs of your legs and your arms and legs immediately wrapped around him as you kissed some more.

“Fuck, I want you,” you choked out. Your censorship around him diminished the more comfortable you got around him.

"Mmm…” Joel moaned into your mouth and allowed you back down onto your feet. He stepped out of his pants, stripped down to nothing and didn't say another word as he towed you with him toward the lake. Without hesitation he sloshed into the body of water and dove under, head first.

You stood grinning on the side, biting down on your bottom lip for several seconds before braving the water as he had upon sliding off your pants.

Joel immediately pulled your body back against his and connected your lips with his again. "I thought you were going to chicken out."

"Sometimes I just need a little push," you told him, reaching down below his waist. "Or a... big push." You smiled when his eyes closed as you touched him.

"Mmm..." He moaned and allowed your to continue.

"What are we going to do when it gets cold outside?" You smiled, continuing to stroke him beneath the water.

Joel kept his eyes closed, subconsciously running his tongue across his bottom lip as he did though gave a coherent response. "My truck has heat honey." He smiled briefly but immediately got back in the moment. “Ughhh..” he groaned.

You brought your lips back to his, pleased by his response and only stopped what you werr doing when Joel grabbed your face hard with both hands as he kissed you more aggressively.

"Don't stop," he mumbled into your mouth.

You moaned now, attempting to grab a hold of him again though when he picked you up easily again by the backs of your knees you clung to him in the water.

"Might be hard to fuck like this." Joel choked out the words but easily slipped inside of you with the aid of the water. You moaned simultaneously. "Maybe not."

You wrapped your arms around the back of his shoulders and sighed his name aloud, holding you with ease.

"Ohh... you have no fucking idea," he whispered, digging his fingers into your hips as he moved you up and down on his dick.

You muffled a moan into the nook of his neck and grasped him tighter. "No idea what?"

Joel let out a louder moan this time. "You're fuckin' amazing, honey." His eyes remained closed, "Fuck."

You smiled, but immediately got pulled back into the pleasure of the moment, eagerly giving Joel all the appreciation you could through a series of moans that you found more difficult to contain as you carried on.

The more you were together, the less you care about the consequences. Could you get caught out in public together? Yes. Could there be potential repercussions because of it? Yes. Were there 'safer' places to screw around? Yes. Could his wife find out? Yes. Your parents? Yes.

None of it mattered. It was almost as if the high of the moment would make up for it, even if the worst possible scenario happened to occur. It being Joel's idea to hit his so-called discreet fishing spot made you all the more confident in your security. You developed a trust in Joel and embraced that whole heartedly. Logic had fizzled out and the feeling and emotion had completely taken over.

You were beginning to feel like the initial infatuation had blossomed into something more; something you warned yourself about many times over. You had no feeling close to compare it to, but you couldn't help but acknowledge that had fully and completely fallen for your older, married neighbor. You were in love with Joel Miller.

CLICK HERE FOR PART 10

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421

@cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @writlingerz @vickie5446 @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I report my neighbors for leaving free stuff on the curb?

My neighbors directly across the road (directly in my eyeline as I stand at my kitchen bench) keep leaving things free to anyone who wants them outside their house. Normally I'm all for this, I love giving old stuff a new life and it's easier to point out the few things in my house I've bought new rather than try to point out every single second hand item. But my neighbors keep leaving out stuff that NO ONE wants. Like outdoors chairs that are more rust than metal, stained bedding, broken toys. The only thing they've left out that was actually taken was an old chest freezer that maybe could have been fixed or maybe someone took it for parts/scrap. And they leave stuff out for weeks so even if it was semi ok when they put it out, it gets ruined by the weather. Instead of taking trash to the dump where it belongs they're putting it out on the curb hoping someone will take the problem off their hands. I have offered to take a couple of old chairs to the dump when I've been going myself but they said "Oh no, someone might want them." - those chairs had been sitting out on the curb for weeks and had green slime growing out of the cushions. I know other neighbors have suggested they not leave stuff out so long but they've been ignored. I doubt it's a financial matter, that they can't afford the dump fees, it's a nice house, they have 3 nice cars and 3 working adults in the household. I know it's not a transport matter because one of said nice cars is a big fancy truck that could easily transport anything they no longer needed. I don't think it's it's a re-use recycle ethos because these people drive gas guzzlers, unload trunk-fulls of brand new stuff on the regular and barely ever put out recycling (again my kitchen window faces directly at their driveway so anytime I'm at the bench prepping food I can see what they're doing whether I want to or not so I've gotten familiar with their habits). It seems like just stubborn refusal to believe that no one wants their garbage. I know if I call the council they could get fined for littering but I am so sick of looking out the window and seeing trash.

And before anyone gives me the advice to put up a curtain or something, my kitchen is on the top floor and there's a beautiful view over the roof of their house to mountains that I like to look at while I cook. And a curtain doesn't solve the problem of having to look at the trash anytime I go out my drive.

What are these acronyms?

[colorisbyshe]

There's a thread on r/books right now about what you should do with books that are genuinely terrible to you and so many people are insisting on donation over straight up trashing/recycling them and it's really does highlight to me how... donation is the world's garbage can.

The same way people who buy multiple copies of kpop cds for photocards end up trying to donate the cds. Or people will donate clothes with holes and stains to thrift shops. Or people will donate food that's just been languishing in their pantry for months and are close to their expiration dates to food pantries.

And as someone who has needed to get rid of large amounts of stuff before... I get it. But I've also worked at the local library for a used book sale and had to sort and box all the donations--I've been on both sides of this.

The only worthwhile conclusion I have gotten is that people really abuse the system of donations. Donations should not be focused on shit you do not want anymore. They should be given on the basis of what you think other people need and want.

Real labor goes into sorting donations. HOURS of time. Time that is spent inhaling dust and mold and inspecting labels and often THROWING OUT DONATIONS. It feels like people are offloading their guilt and their labor onto volunteer forces, sometimes. You feel bad about throwing it out, so you'll make someone else do it for you.

And my point isn't that you shouldn't donate stuff. I will say, it's almost ALWAYS better to donate money or going according to specific requests. But even then... you can donate stuff. Even used stuff.

But like... people really do need to just actually pause and think if they are helping anyone with that donation. Like the r/books thread--if a book is morally repugnant, is it better to recirculate it for free? Maybe it's good to prevent someone from paying the author for it but maybe someone who wouldn't have ever read it picks it up and suffers from it. You should actually take a second to think about this before just deciding to make it someone else's problem.

Donating is not always the morally correct answer. Some used or gross crap is better just thrown out. Or at least put on a curb so people know the risk they're taken in inspecting it before taking it home.

[mamadoc]

Hello! I’ve finally posted the next chapter of my story.

Here’s a preview of one of the segments.

Friday morning, as the girls were loading themselves into the car to go to camp, Tim rolled the garbage cans out to the curb just like Angela had instructed him to do. However, as he turned to go back into the garage, he noticed something unexpected and strange.

There was a large camper van parked on the street in front of Angela’s house that he had never noticed there before. The door opened right as he turned to go back. Tim took a double take as he saw a man he easily recognized step out of the van with two bags of trash in his hands.

“Smitty?” he asked, his voice much higher than normal. “What in the world are you doing here?’

“Bradford,” he said, not at all surprised to see him there. “I sneak my trash into Lopez’ garbage cans on her garbage day. She always has extra room because that husband of hers loooooves recycling,” he said with a Cheshire grin. “I’ll just save the planet by cleaning up every once in a while,” he said with nod that reiterated to Tim that he should never, ever step foot in that van.

After depositing the trash bags, he winked at Tim. “Hashtag van life, baby,” he said as he crossed two fingers on each hand to make a hashtag symbol.

Tim shook his head. Some things never change, he thought to himself. But there was room for his trash in Angela’s bin, so he decided not to fight it.

As Smitty walked back to his van, he turned to Tim. “Hey, good luck tonight, Bradford. I hope everything works out between the two of you. I lost a lot of money when you two didn’t get together. Well, the whole station did, really. Everyone except for that prick Primm. I don’t know who stuck a stick up his ass, but that guy was the biggest jerk. At least that’s one good thing about finally retiring. I don’t have to see him ever again.”

Smitty shook his head and looked over at Tim who was glaring at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Smitty smiled and waved as he got back into his van. Then he leaned out the window and said, “Don’t stress out too much, sarge. She loves you. She has for years. Just lean into it and go with the flow.” With that he put on his sunglasses and made a motion with his hand that looked like waves on the ocean. “Peace out!” he called. Then his honked his horn three times and drove off.

Tim stood frozen in the driveway. He had had some odd conversations with Smitty over the years, but this one might take the cake. He had no idea what he was talking about or who he was talking about. Good luck tonight? Lost a lot of money on a bet? What bet? Was he really talking about Lucy and him? Or was that just his mind playing tricks on him again? She loves me? Nah…. Smitty was losing it. It was only when he heard his girls hollering at him that he was broken out of his trance.

“Yeah. Coming,” he called back to them. Then he turned and jogged up the driveway to take the girls to camp.

Read more here:

It’s definitely a long chapter, but I hope you enjoy it.

[heylabodega]

I love to take out my trash three times a week, my modest little trash of my quiet little life, love to take my recycling out to the curb once per week and replace the blue transparent bags. I love to do my dishes. I love my little space which is messy but never smelly, the messy of living here and running and painting and reading and working, but lighting candles and cleaning the sink and taking out the trash, three times per week. It smells good and is filled with fans creating a breeze and is a nice place to be.

[dollsonmain]

I struggle with routines.

There are some that I have managed to establish. Monday I rest. Tuesday I mow, weather permitting. Friday I wash the sheets.

I haven't been able to establish the habits of gathering up and taking out all of the trash on Monday because trash pick up is Tuesday morning, cleaning off the counters and kitchen sink every night before bed, or taking the recyclables to the curb Thursday night for early-morning pick up on Friday.

I don't know why some stick and some don't. Lists don't work (become part of the visual noise). Alarms don't work (I just turn them off). Apps don't work (never able to set them to my EXACT needs).

It's frustrating.

[bastionkeeper]

I have to remind myself of when I was 17 working my first ever job and I didn't know how anything worked and I didn't get any patience so I had to learn the restaurant industry through fear

Because it turns out when you're working with a 16 year old that doesn't know how anything works, he leaves a shit ton of work for you and it's worse than being the only one in the position at all and I need to be patient with him even if I wanna throttle him everytime he leaves all of the trash and recycling for days instead of taking it to the curb and let's mold grow on every surface I swear to god I will be patient with this child

[trivialbob]

This is a pleasant time of year.

Leaves have started to fall. That feature of nature I could easily live without. However, it gets me outside and moving. Collecting the leaves brings me satisfaction. Seeing the green grass appear again... ahhhhhh.

Of course tomorrow afternoon little evidence of my work will remain.

It's mostly a Wednesday routine. Trash and yard waste collection here is on Thursdays. The day before I get out my Toro Super Recycler Muncher Shredder mower. I mulch and collect leaves in the mower's bag, then fill the large plastic yard waste container to the brim.

If I skip no more than one or two Wednesdays each fall I can get a full season's worth of leaves in that container before weekly service ceases for winter. It gives me joy if I don't end up putting excess leaves in those heavy paper bags we have to use nowadays. (You have to buy those things!)

Today's yard work is now done. The mower has been cleaned of dust. The big bin is down at the curb. My step count is up. The hot shower I'll soon take will feel well deserved, much nicer than a "just getting ready for office work" shower.

Not coincidentally, this is also the beginning of the Wednesday evening martini--eventually changing to Manhattan--season

[virtualmosshroom]

depression slept all day until three something in the afternoon and just when i thought i might let the depression swallow me whole, i managed to unload and reload the dishwasher, clean the cat litter, take the recycling and trash downstairs, put all four bins out onto the curb, and then shower, so i think i deserve smooches and praise for my achievements today

[razorsadness]

Though, also worth noting...is that skateboarding, at least between the mid-eighties and mid-nineties, was one of the (many) places the gift economy was in radical action, by which I mean in practice. It was just the case that whatever you had extra—and skateboarding, with its many components (decks, wheels, bearings, trucks, bushings, riser pads, rails, Rip Grip, bolts, etc.) made for extra—you passed along. Most of us had a bucket of some sort where, when someone needed something, we dug around to find it. I never once heard anyone express it as an ethics (sharing, redistribution, commonwealthing), though if you tried to keep your extra to yourself, if you spoke to no one of your bucket, and then it got out you had one, and gleaming like gold in that extra Independent truck was the kingpin one of us needed to skate that day, the reaction would be an ethical one: Yo, that’s fucked up, man.      Also worth noting is that skateboarding’s reemergence, at least in the US, is almost perfectly concurrent with a new gilded age, a grotesque accumulation and celebration of wealth, deregulation, the dismantling of the welfare state, mass incarceration, NAFTA, taking the solar panels off the roof of the White House, privatization of everything, further enclosure of the commons, and the unabashed, unapologetic, mongering sanctification of hoarding. Of the hoard.

...

...the only limitation to what might be skated, or made public, or commoned, or shared, is the imagination.      Which, yeah, leaves some marks sometimes. Though the residual polyurethane script of previous wall-riders, the frenetic black rainbows streaking a white wall, to me indicates possibility, skateability, to maintenance, and most definitely to the owner of the building, they are a headache, and might even hit ‘em in the wallet if they want that wall real clean. To the owners, everything is a headache, or a potentional headache, which is to say: a threat. And to the skaters everything is skateable. As you can see, this is an endless loop that results either in criminalization (and the once ubiquitous Skateboarding Is Not a Crime sticker), or the very pristine and perfect skateparks municipalities have taken to building as a kind of legal protest corral, helmets and recycling strongly encouraged.      It is so odd to be old enough to catch myself saying things like “I’m so glad they didn’t have that then.” You know, cellular telephones. Homework. Schedules. Parents. Bottled water. Strange to say, but skateparks, too, I’m so glad we didn’t really have. We had the thing behind 7-Eleven on Maple Ave., a little rough but still nice. We had the drainage ditch up behind the car dealerships. We had the car dealerships. We had the loading docks behind the supermarket. We had Herbert Hoover Elementary School, which included the roof. We had that jarring bit of transition behind Burger King, and the culvert behind Mindy’s Skateshop. We had those sexy, long, slippery, connected parking curbs at the school near where Georgie moved over in Fairless Hills. Another ditch, kinda steep but good, behind the Posh Nosh and the Clemons, where they carried Transworld SKATEboarding magazine. We had dumpsters we could flip over, and washing machines or dryers left by the dumpster we could boardslide and grind. We had those ramps we built of good wood we found at local construction sites in the middle of the night. We had the SEPTA station in Penndel, the park bench and that indecipherable hunk of wood Harley and I pulled from the trash and skated for hours. We had those high yellow curbs over the sewer grates. That ramp we took out of the driveway of that kid Steve who wouldn’t share his bucket. We skated and ollied off the wooden boardwalk and steps of Seafood Shanty. Ledges, the fountain, the speed bumps, the smooth yellow curbs at the mall. We had that little course we built from a stash of railroad ties and some scavenged plywood in the janky, netless, heavenly smooth tennis courts at the apartments, until they banished skating from the premises with threat of eviction. Of course they did.

—Ross Gay, from “Share Your Bucket! (Skateboarding: The Fifth Incitement)” (Inciting Joy, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2022)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for sorting my recycling for a homeless person?

Theres a person i see around town who collects cans, i think to turn them into waste management and get cash for the aluminum. I dont drink a ton of pop/soda/whatever, but if i organized it into a different box and left it on the curb for them on trash day, would that be kind? I also dont know if the cops (who have a station right down the street) would take kindly to it. Or my neighbors...

Im not sure if it would cause more trouble for them in the long run, is my concern, and why i havent done it yet. I havent seen them in my neighborhood in awhile either but i feel like it would be worse/weirder to find them and hand them the box directly. Im living paycheck to paycheck myself, or id try to just give them cash instead :(

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?