every wednesday liz and i, like puppies, run to the window when we hear the garbage truck coming. it makes me laugh to think how entertaining we find this.
first the humped truck backs to the dumpster.
then a person, big as a bear in layers of coats and hats and gloves and boots
-- probably skinny as a rail when he strips down in the spring! --
rolls out from the cab to the muddy/icy/snowy ground.
(depending on which of our 3 seasons it is)
he trundles to the back of the truck.
he surveys the situation, returns to the cab.
the truck pulls out and backs up in a subtly different position.
*aside* - these are not called dumpsters in england. i think kumi told me what they are but i forgot already.
the inspection and repositioning goes on for a bit.
eventually things line up.
he detaches a heavy metal cable from the back of the truck. it has a wonderful huge orange hook on the end!
he drags the cable around to the far end of the dumpster,
today, fighting his way through one of last week's storm-downed trees lying against the dumpster's back-end.
there, the hook is hooked to the middle of the far end.
liz and i watching from the window smile and nod with satisfaction.
the bundled person tramps back to the cab, hoists up, and pulls the door shut.
then slowly, slowly, slowly, with a whiney winching sort of noise, the cable pulls the back of the dumpster into the air until the 6 door flaps open feebly and everything, mostly, tumbles and thumps into the truck's hump.
there. it's done.
the denoument ? -- we never stay for the last act.
unless there's a possibility of the truck getting stuck in the mud or something breaking.