No metaphor today, team! Visiting the local dump is a worthy use of time.
The other day, I had to dispose of some undesirable items that the previous owners of our home left behind.
I located the dump (euphemistically called the “transfer station”) on the internet maps and filed into the complex, passing 50+ commercial garbage trucks. (They were headed for the “tipping building” – a massive (100,000 square foot?) open warehouse structure with 30+ bays where these trucks evacuate their contents. This garbage is then folded into a landfill, generously estimated at a ¼ mile square.)
I was funneled over to the edge of the property and asked (after paying my fees) to lob by offerings over a fence and into a dumpster the size of a shipping crate.
The summer sun baked the complex and air was thick, barely breathable, and… toxic? Probably?
That kind of sensory experience leaves quite an impression, and I find myself thinking about it since.
I appreciate that my garbage does not just disappear, appreciate the people that work there, and appreciate that it takes quite a lot of work and expense to dispose of certain things.
It is worth it to find the dump and visit.
Paul's Blog 