To the dump...becoming an empowered woman through the transportation of trash.

My dad has this joke he used to like to tell that went like this:

Q: Where does the lone ranger go to take out his trash?

A: "To the dump...to the dump...to the dump, dump, dump!" (To the melody of the ever-popular tune...of course...)

Nice, dad...anyways...so yesterday Heidi and I cleaned out the backyard, a project she's been wanting to do since we moved in. We borrowed a truck from a local teenager and took it upon ourselves to load up the bed and haul off the garbage. (By took it upon ourselves, I mean, Heidi really wanted to do it, and I've been working hard to be more astute at "helping" people in need of assistance...so I helped. As much as scrawny-armed girls with no basic knack for manual labor are able to help in such scenarios.)

My basic job was as "The Compactor." Heidi says this gets to be my professional wrestling name...and with that name, I already have my patented move...it looks like this: {{ jump up and down on your opponent repeatedly, as hard as you can, crushing them into submission. }} This was my job description as "The Compactor," when I crushed an entire truckbed full of yard waste (tree branches, etc) into submission. This was all so that we could load up as many tree branches and as much junk as possible into the truck bed to take a huge load to the dump.

Then Heidi and I broke out the bungee cords and ratchet straps and nailed the whole thing down under the tarp, praying that tailgaters weren't taking their lives in their hands as we drove 40mph down the state highway with 4-ways flashing.

But the entire process of prepping and unloading the junk at the dump was extremely cathartic. as we pulled the junk and the tree branches (and in some cases--actual trees) into the dumpster, there was a lot of joy and singing from Heidi and I...and as we looked down into the dumpster to see our day's work successfully thrown away, we giggled and celebrated. We--two adult single women, had loaded (with the help of guy friend Mark) an entire truckbed full of junk, strapped it down ourselves, driven it to the dump, and disposed of it. How wonderful!

And the best part was that we didn't even have to do such a task on our own crying, "I'm alone!" We got to do it together and rejoice in the delights of cleaning up the backyard.

I was so motivated by our productiveness that I came home and hemmed two pairs of pants. Just call me industrious, because it was true.

And then to celebrate, we treated ourselves to Chinese Takeout and a movie. Not to mention, the already better joy of a cleaner, friendlier yard.

So...if you have never been to the dump, you deserve to go. It's cathartic, and it's useful as a metaphor for oh-so-many things... Plus, when you go to the dump, you can walk into your office on a Monday Morning singing a friendly little tune: "To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump!"