HUMAN WRECKAGE

Coping Mechanism

The biggest news story of 2021 broke just six days into the new year. More to come as the chaotic dust and tear gas clouds settle.

Ann and I sat stupefied the other day, entranced by CBC reportage from the capital of the United States, the mob swarming the Capitol, egged along Pennsylvania Avenue by the first family of douche-baggery, scrotal inflammation and Wal-mart luxury products. She said, “This feels a lot like 9/11,” as in, ‘What the fuck is happening on American soil?’ States of confusion.

Though the undefended border between our countries is closed currently, any sort of eruption down there always feels pretty close to home. Beneath the breathless commentary and the white noise of riotous sounds we swore we could hear gleeful chuckling all the way from Beijing and Moscow. I can imagine Canadian diplomats being a little on edge, a tad deferential: ‘I suppose this is a bad time to bring up cedar shakes and shingles, dairy supply management, aluminum tariffs and Michigan’s Line 5 pipeline, eh?’

A constant pleasure in my life has been retiring with a good book for company. I read in bed until the viscous film between my eyelids and eyeballs turns sandpapery. I finished a novel by Anthony Burgess that night, one which imagines the sordid decline of the Roman Empire and its suppression of Christianity. The book closes on an upbeat note, the volcanic obliteration of Pompeii. I put it down and began to read another historical novel, a Christmas gift from Ann. ‘V2’ by Robert Harris explores and explains Germany’s desperate, last ditch rocketry program at the end of the Second World War, London maybe a modern Pompeii, supersonic spite.

I shut out the light. All of those tired, nasty nouns and verbs, so repetitive, so shameful, so painful. I tried to summon some sort of pithy axiom regarding the nature of history from the darkness, but there was only silence in the night. And Supertramp: “All right, here we go again.” Eventually I realized I’d be better off drifting off worrying about something sort of within my control.

The City of Edmonton is changing its trash collection policy. While the new regimen is environmentally sound and long overdue, it will disrupt the way I’ve always done things. I’m still reeling from the City’s advisory not to collect and bag Crooked 9 grass clippings. I mow our lawn 12 times between Victoria Day and Thanksgiving. Even without grass clippings, Ann and I fill 40 huge bags with yard waste every year, 20 in the spring and 20 in the fall (yes, I track stuff like this). The City will no longer accept yard waste as regular garbage. Instead, like Christmas tree collection, there will be a special and limited pick up. Oh woe, where are we supposed to store all of this debris? “Derbis,” as Ann jokingly describes it.

Weekly collection of blue-bagged recyclables will remain unchanged. The new wrinkle is a green bin for biodegradable kitchen waste, fruit and vegetable peelings, egg shells and coffee grounds. This gunk will be collected weekly during the summer months and twice monthly during the winter months. I assume there’s an assumption that rotting scraps won’t be rank when they’re frozen solid. I’m not sure we can count on consistent freezing temperatures even this far north anymore.

What’s left, actual genuine garbage is to be placed in black bins which will be emptied every two weeks throughout the year. As the green and black bins will be lifted up and dumped by trucks equipped with a mechanical arm, I suppose my war against dog walkers and their doggie bags of gifted shit must come to an end; I’ll no longer need to rebag it in a blind fury for the health and dignity of the garbage collector. I don’t know if I’m prepared to accept the inevitable and obvious. Maybe neighbours who pack their own black bins will try to dump the rest of their garbage into ours. Maybe I can get fucking mad about that and fight on.  

meGeoff has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of over-thinking the mundane since 2013. Sign up for e-mail alerts from the Crooked 9, use that thingy on the right. The second wave along with its more virulent cousin is here and so is winter; you’ll need a distraction.