The landfill was quite a sensual awakening. I don't necessarily mean that in a positive way. It was quite the drive for the pleasure of paying to dump our no longer needed (and very icky) futon directly into a huge pile of reeking and currently in the process of being bulldozed and pummelled, garbage. Plus it was raining directly atop said landfill.
The Sexy Engineer pointed out that this will probably be the site of a very important future archeological dig. I wonder what all the future ethnographers and other scholars will make of our garbage (particularly the layering of political placards in the strata). The stench, the vastness, the rain, the hugeness of the machines, all combined to turn me into someone I don't really know. For a moment, I was a decidedly feminine little bitch.When prissy gives way to status quo, I will definitely be rethinking my consumption and disposal habits. I don't want to go back there any time soon. But I will be ruminating over the fact that it costs a little more than 57 bucks to get rid of a (literal) ton of shit.
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