Santa on the Curb

One of the biggest things keeping me from being an optimist right now is, of course, our financial situation. No, that's too euphemistic. What I mean to say is "our lack of money." With such a huge pay cut in force, there's just enough for the basic necessities of life, but nothing for the occasional bit of fun. And when you're working extra, making less and not having much fun, it's hard to keep a cheery disposition, not that I ever had one in the first place.
So today I'd like to report on an annual activity that always makes me smile.
It's called trash picking, and it's an early summer tradition in our family.
Every spring Lenexans have one day designated to set stuff out on the curb that's too big for the weekly garbage collection. Stoves. Water heaters. Metal file cabinets. You get the picture.
Most people set it out the night before. So on Big Garbage Eve, there's a slow parade of junk shop pros. There's the pickup trucks full of all kinds of furniture. The flatbeds loaded with lawnmowers and tires.
And us, in our '90s conversion van.
Let's be clear. This is trash picking. Not dumpster diving (which involves dumpsters and sounds gross) or freecycling (which involves Internet groups and sounds cool. I just might sign up).
We've done trash picking for years--long before Mike's demotion and pay cut, lest anyone misdirect any pity. This is not about desperation and want. It's about adventure and serendipity. And I guess, since trash picking makes me feel resourceful and thrifty, I can claim to be an optimist, at least on this one subject.
Big Garbage Eve is better than Christmas. The budgeting and cooking and volunteering of Christmas leave us exhausted and emotionally in need. Big Garbage Eve leaves me feeling lucky and blessed--as if God really is looking out for us after all.
We got into the van last night with a fuzzy wish list. Our middle son will soon move into an apartment and needs a better desk. As for Mike and I, we just look for anything we might use.
Partly, it's about the thrill of the hunt. We watched the pros' trucks come through, then tried to find a route that would beat them to the biggest piles. Then we slowly trolled through the neighborhoods, with me getting out every so often to hold up items of interest.
Our haul for the night: A long folding table in very nice shape. A couple of missing screws was the only flaw we could see. A hand saw that looked pretty good once the rust was sanded off. A pet carrier that was a little chewed around the front. If our other son doesn't use it when he gets his cat(s), we'll keep it for ours. A wooden melon crate that can be fixed up to hold magazines or something. On an earlier trip, Mike found a girls' bicycle that needs a couple of tires.
We didn't find a desk. But all in all, not bad.
The recession hasn't seemed to affect the quality of trash, either. Only this: There seemed to be an unusually high number of old toilets out on the curb. We must have seen a dozen of them. Did someone come through selling toilets door to door this year?
I'm proud to say our sons seem to be carrying on the tradition. Our oldest recently told me he keeps an eye on the apartment trash when people move out, and has found some nice things.
We put in an order for a floor lamp.