For all the people who know me in real life and thought I was a classy kind of girl, I'm sorry for deceiving you.
Showing posts with label garbage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label garbage. Show all posts
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Mine?
My parents were fighting all weekend, and my mom went on an organizing/throwin-stuff-away rampage...
My parents have since made up, but I'm still keeping her stuff. Ha!
My parents have since made up, but I'm still keeping her stuff. Ha!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Garbage
One of the things I was bracing myself for when I moved back to Japan last year was its notoriously fascist garbage collection system.
(click to enlarge)
The thing is, you can get used to anything. After a while, I didn't even have to look at my calender to know if it was Monday (combustibles) or the second Tuesday of the month (plastic bottles). I got really good at washing, cutting, and drying the milk and juice cartons quickly. I think they'd even reduced the number of categories in the last few years, so it was slightly easier than the last time I had been so traumatized and overwhelmed by its complexity. Eventually, I even moved into an apartment that had its own garbage room so I didn't have to deal with this 8:00 business . . . before that, I'd often wake to the sound of the garbage truck leaving, and think to myself, "Crap. I guess I'll have to live with my stinky garbage for another 3 days."
Anyway. I could probably go on forever, but homework's a-callin'.
**
Oh, also. This is unrelated to garbage, but ain't it the truth: Printers Were Sent from Hell to Make Us Miserable.
(click to enlarge)
The thing is, you can get used to anything. After a while, I didn't even have to look at my calender to know if it was Monday (combustibles) or the second Tuesday of the month (plastic bottles). I got really good at washing, cutting, and drying the milk and juice cartons quickly. I think they'd even reduced the number of categories in the last few years, so it was slightly easier than the last time I had been so traumatized and overwhelmed by its complexity. Eventually, I even moved into an apartment that had its own garbage room so I didn't have to deal with this 8:00 business . . . before that, I'd often wake to the sound of the garbage truck leaving, and think to myself, "Crap. I guess I'll have to live with my stinky garbage for another 3 days."
Anyway. I could probably go on forever, but homework's a-callin'.
**
Oh, also. This is unrelated to garbage, but ain't it the truth: Printers Were Sent from Hell to Make Us Miserable.
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