The other day, I figured it was time to make an appointment with the practitioner who runs the medieval torture chamber in my neighbourhood. I like my dentist. He has been welcoming my visits and the payments that accompany them, for more than 20 years. I often ask him if he needs a new golf club when he suggests a crown or root canal to repair the weak tooth DNA I inherited from my parents.
My reason for wanting to make a reluctant visit to the dentist’s office was the discovery that breathing caused my teeth to hurt. Add to that the discomfort I felt while drinking a cup of tea, and I figured a visit was needed. Better yet, I decided, let fear prevail. I will delay the visit and wait and see what happens.
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It appears the seeds of the city’s solution for collecting house hold waste are blowing through the neighbourhood. I call it seeds because I’m seeing grey and blue plastic bins sprouting in various yards.
At the time of this writing, the disbursement hasn’t hit my front yard. Like my dentist visit decision, I am waiting to see what happens.
I am thinking maybe the new solution will go away on it own. The new blue recycling bin is bigger. If bigger is indeed better, then the blue bin will help. It will eliminate the need for me to drag two or three broken, cracked skeletons of blue box receptacles to the curb every week. I wonder will I need to write our address on the new containers, like my old boxes. My spouse believes people steal recycling boxes if given the chance. The only way to thwart the thieves is to label the box with an address in black ink.
I have some concern about the viability of the plastic containers. Be it metal or polymer, duct tape or tie-wrapped, reinforced trash cans and blue boxes I position near the curb, over time they managed to get the crap kicked out of them. My plastic garbage can is missing the lid that was permanently attached. The can is cracked down one side and has a gaping hole from a missing piece at the top. It looks like a mouth with a bad tooth extraction.
For the new bins, I am thinking of taking still photographs each week. From the pictures I am going to make a flip book. When you flip the pictures, it will be like time-lapse photography of a flower withering.
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British writer Arthur C. Clark is credited with the idea that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. I suspect the statement applies to writers. I am still in awe of writer Mitch Albom for his book Five People You Meet in Heaven. Read the book to discover how the lives of five unrelated people are woven together, its pure magic. I tried a similar idea here with two subjects, dentist and trash collection. Hopefully, my dentist has a sense of humour.
Sean Conway is a River Park South-based writer.
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