No Big Deal

It was Friday, the Fourth of July. Friday is our normal trash pickup day, but because it was a holiday, Bill figured it would be skipped until Saturday.

Wrong.

At 5:45, as we were getting dressed for our morning walk, we heard the unmistakable rumble of the garbage truck. We looked at each other, surprise and panic reflected in our eyes. We threw on shorts and tees and scrambled around the house, gathering up the wastebaskets, running into the garage to consolidate into one big bag, and finally dashing out to the sidewalk just as the truck reached our driveway.

With a “whew” of relief, we went off on our daily five-mile jaunt. An hour and a half later, dripping buckets of sweat, we returned to blessed air conditioning and a greeting from the couch.

“Hi there. Is it hot out?” Mom chirped as I gathered her empty yogurt container and juice glass.

“Mom,” I replied, trying not to sweat into her mug as I handed over her morning coffee. “It’s July. It’s Phoenix. It’s going to be hot until November.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, blowing across the surface of the steaming liquid.

“We had a close call this morning,” I said.

“On your walk?”

“No. We almost missed the garbage pickup.”

“Oh? Did you forget to put it out?”

“No. Today’s the Fourth of July so we figured they wouldn’t show up on a holiday.”

“Well, the 4th’s never been much of a holiday,” she offered with a knowing nod. “That’s probably why they worked.

“Mom, it’s to celebrate our independence. It’s a big deal!”

“If you say so, she responded. “As far as I’m concerned it’s just a lot of boomie noise when I’m ready for bed. It isn’t a celebration as much as an excuse to blow stuff up!”

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