Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Miracle of the Fish and Dispose

Moving week was so, so hard, but there were definitely some memorable moments buried within. On the last day we had possession of the townhouse, I was cleaning like a mad thing all day. At 4 pm, there were several things left to do: make a run to the dump, drop plant pots in Kim & Gene's barn, dispose of the dead fish, clean the fridge and stove. I decided to head to the dump first.

When you google "Dump", you don't get the right answer. Here in Surrey, you would need to search for "transfer station" because that terminology is just SO evident. So that wasted a bunch of time. Get it? WASTED??? Haha. Anyway. So I found out where I had to go, loaded up the BMW to the roof, got out some cash, and headed off. I drove in, and after a short wait in line with all the dumptrucks and pickups, drove onto the scale. After the car got weighed, I drove around and into this giant warehouse where the stench was nicely concentrated to the point where I could taste it for hours afterwards. The nice man inside directed me where to park, and I got out to start unloading.

Right into a gigantic swamp of oozing sludge. I couldn't even see the floor. The waste transfer guy came over, and looking at my feet, said "First time?" I was wearing flip flops. And the ooze was gently lapping at my bare toes while I quietly vomited inside my mouth. He was very sweet and carried my cardboard over to the pile for me, because as he said, "the less you flip around inside here, the better". I started chucking everything else onto the giant pile of refuse. It was so liberating! After the week I'd had, to physically heave everything and watch it explode into a million bits on a pile of ten million other bits was very therapeutic.

As I drove out, I got all my cash ready and drove onto the scales with a fistful of bills in my hand. I had withdrawn $100, because I had really no idea. She leaned close to the car window and said, "That will be six dollars, please". Um, ok, you'll maybe just need ONE of these twenties, then.

So once I left there I still had to flush the fish. This was Jack's birthday present from a few months back, and I hadn't told him yet that "Fighter" had given up the good fight right about the time we moved out. Jack hadn't noticed that Fighter hadn't been swimming at all lately, just sort of floating sideways and only moving with the water currents if you shook the bowl. Not good. I was completely dreading the fish flush, because I felt that my gentle disposition was not cut out for this, and that Mike should be doing at least this one chore. However, Mike was at the new place with the boys, and I was exhausted and just wanted to get to bed, so I figured better get it over with. I very briefly considered the garbage disposal (EW) and went upstairs to the toilet. I scooped him up with my pink rubber glove, screaming quietly to myself, and the darn thing wriggled out and started swimming madly around. OMG! Now my scream was not so quiet, and I felt so sick to my stomach that I almost killed a LIVING THING. I wrapped his bowl in a plastic bag, and carefully placed him on top of the last load leaving the townhouse.

And ever since, he has been the perfect picture of fishy health. Figure that one out. Did he KNOW I was flushing him? Freaky.

I'd also just like to pay tribute to Grandfather Hardy, who we lost on Monday the 22nd after a stroke the week before. I'm thankful that everyone had a chance to say goodbye, and I hope he is at peace. We unfortunately could not make it down to Florida for the service on the 25th, but we hope to fly there at some point to pay our respects. We will miss you, grandfather, and will cherish many fond memories.

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