The other day Ol' Dutch was tying up yet another bag of trash generated in the kitchen and I could not help to wonder where it all came from.
For you see, Ol' Dutch is not like most men who stay at home watching television, golfing, fishing or merely scratching the posterior parts of their anatomy. No siree. I have found out that accompanying Trixie to the local stores or the far away Wal-Mart gains me what is known as “points” with Trixie.
Women are like that. Once you find out that merely spending time with them doing seemingly mundane chores relates to “quality time together,” your life will ease up considerably. Now I know that all women are not the same to which I can get a hardy “Amen,” but by and large, they love to have their selected better-or-for-worse half along for the day perusing the shelves.
So having said all that, Ol' Dutch has a pretty good idea about how many sacks of food -- paper, plastic and other -- come through our front door. What I cannot figure out is how that seemingly limited supply of goods multiplies to a vast amount of trash going out that same door.
This is totally against the laws of physics and maybe a dozen other laws that Ol' Dutch is unaware of. There is only one conclusion: something tawdry is going on inside the cupboards and fridge when I am not looking.
I have been tempted to put my game camera in there to somehow catch the plastic wrap and milk cartons having questionable relations but so far whatever they are doing is in complete silence which reminds me of a girlfriend I once had.
Whatever is going on in there though, I am sure if I were to catch it on video, it would lead to a stint on some national news or television show. But, just like the UFO controversy where the truth is hidden for our own good, Ol' Dutch is not sure the nation is ready to find out what goes on behind our cupboard doors when we are not looking.
I believe that most people would rather go around with their heads in the sand like some long necked bird in Australia oblivious to the dangers lurking on the other side of the door.
Now I understand how trash accumulating can occur around a house but when you live in an RV like Trixie and me, there is really only a limited amount of space to store items purchased. So the normal wrappers and boxes that come from the store have to be carefully accounted for when living thus and I have no idea how all this “stuff” appeared out of thin air.
While we contend with our shopping bags multiplying, our neighbor down the road, Uncle Si, has a real passion for garage sailing and his “stuff” multiplies faster than rabbits on viagra.
Just one peek in his massive shed and you see exactly what happens when your stuff decides to propagate. It is impossible to walk from one end of his building to the other without stubbing your toe on a 1929 pecan picker or the three billy clubs he carefully watches over.
Ol' Dutch bought a boat one time from a collector of such things and you could not walk through his yard for the parts scattered in the grass. When I asked the man why he had hundreds of trashed boats, boat parts, boat motors, boat oars, boat seats and all other things boat related, he looked me calmly in the eye and said, “Well, that’s my 401(k).”
It’s bad enough to have to deal with the daily amount of trash that we generate and the thoughts of how much a great city may accumulate just boggles this simple mind. But regardless of what we have to deal with, Trixie is just thankful that should something happen to Ol' Dutch she won't have to cash in a 401(k) of rotting boats.