That 70’s House: The Dump

In February, when were at That 70s House for HOURS during the home inspection, we chatted a little with neighbor Frank and he spoke enthusiastically about “The Dump.” It’s so close! Just a mile up the road!

TW and I smiled and nodded and later we said things like, “Country folk are so adorable!” and “The Dump! How cute that neighbor Frank told us all about “The Dump!”

Flash forward a month and we chatted with the original owners who were over at neighbor Frank’s, killing time before the big signing. Mr. C went on and on about “The Dump.” He said things like, “It’s so convenient and it’s free.” and “It would cost me more to pay someone to haul the trash away than it does for me to just take it to the dump every few days.”

TW and I smiled and nodded and later we said things like, “I love country folk who love their dump!” and “LOL at Mr C being all thrifty and stuff.”

A couple of days later, I happily filled out the form to start curbside trash pick up via the form on the website that clearly said they handle residential trash in Bradford AND Clay counties. And, nothing happened. They didn’t reply to my form request. They didn’t call me.

We went back to Chicagoland to get things ready to move and one of the first things I did was to call the trash company to set up home pick up. The nice woman asked for my address and looked it up and said, “Oh, it looks like your pick up will be free!”

And I laughed, remembering Mr. C and his “it would cost me more to pay someone to haul it away…” comment. I was all patting myself on the back and giggling a few hours later when the nice woman from the trash company called me back and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re just over the county line in Bradford County and we can’t provide you with free service.”

I laughed again and said, “that’s ok — how much will it cost for the service?” and she said, “oh, I wasn’t clear — we can’t service your area at all.”

Hahahahahahahahahahaha. At that point, I was still laughing but laughing at MYSELF and at TW and our amusement with the old country folk who love their dump so much that they can talk about it for minutes and minutes. Hahahaha.

Once we moved in, neighbor Frank mentioned THE DUMP and the woman who manages the dump. He suggested he might go along with us to the dump the first time we visited because the woman who manages it can be a little… persnickety. Having someone vouch for us would probably make things easier. TW and I smiled nervously at each other. Hoo boy. What had we gotten ourselves into?

A couple of days later, we had so much trash… I couldn’t put it off any more so I loaded everything into my car and headed down to THE DUMP, (without neighbor Frank.) I introduced myself to the woman who runs the dump. I showed her my proof of residency. She put a little white dot sticker on our windshield and then told us her life story. (OK not her life story but some personal stuff about her health.) And that was that. It was pretty painless.

Except, every time I load the trash into my car, I feel queasy over just how much trash we use. What’s worse is we can only recycle paper, cardboard and aluminum cans. NO GLASS. NO PLASTIC. It’s… upsetting.

And, that’s why I ended up paying to repair the stupid beeping microwave instead of buying a new one. Every time I toss something into those dumpsters, I cringe. EVERY darn time. MUST CUT BACK ON WASTE. MUST.

Ugh.

Welcome to country living… I love THE DUMP! (sort of)