Friday Night Highlight

I made a vow, that when I stopped working at Burger King in the early 1990s, it would be the last time I would spend Friday nights cleaning up crap; actual crap.

Fast forward 27 years and here we are again. It’s a Friday night, I could be out (I could be, you know) but I am at home, faced with a pile of crap to clean up.

Time moves on; the crap keeps coming.

OK, so maybe you need a bit of an explanation. There’s a logic to the crap removal. It’s bin day tomorrow. That one day in the week that unites us on our street. Barely a word shared, a glance acknowledged at all other times – until, as the sun sets over the tree line of a Friday night, we make the rarest of eye contact as we put out our bins.

Our bin that was full on Monday, pushed down on Tuesday, creaking by Thursday and now – as we hit Friday and the flies circle the rotting contents of our fortnightly emptied bin; we are left with a simple choice: take it out on to the street as is or try, try as hard as we can to empty the compacted – wee and crap compacted bedding of the Guinea Pigs.

So I lift up the base of their cage. I tap, gently at first. A few loose shavings tumble into the bin below. Then a chunk, the size of which would tear a hole in the hull of ship, breaks free. It bounces down the base and crashes on to the side of the bin. We know how this ends. We’ve seen enough last minute buzzer beaters hit the rim and bounce harmlessly away. But in this instance, harm’s way is on the floor around the bin. Wee and crap coated wood shavings are now blowing across the drive.

Show me where I signed up for this?

So I scoop up what I can. I tap the base further, softer still, to try and get more of the wood shavings into the bin. I find an empty cereal box to push down what I can and mumble something about being a parent, a child not doing what they promised they would – as I spend another Friday night shovelling up crap.

Time moves on; the crap keeps coming.

As I fill the base up with fresh bedding and lift the Guinea Pigs back in to their cage, I look at them with the eyes of a man that has seen all of the crap he can take. Until next week – where the bin will be half full. Where I will get most of the wood shavings in; first go. Where I won’t curse and moan quite so loudly – so pointedly at the small, furry animals who fill my Friday nights with such joy.

Time moves on; the crap keeps coming

Now where did I put the hose for the fish crap?

Header: Crap;
Main image: Woody and Speedo eating Cavolo Nero;
Bottom image:The fish crap extractor.

Chris Written by:

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