The trash gets picked up Thursdays here. That means Wednesday night we make sure the bins on the back porch get emptied into the main dumpster at the edge of the parking lot. By we, I mean my husband.

It’s summer now, so if this job doesn’t get done, the back porch (our home’s main entrance) becomes home to a million squirming maggots and the steaming stench of rotting trash. The dogs don’t seem to mind when this happens, but everyone else does. It makes for a long, lousy week until the next trash day.

We humans sure know how to accumulate waste. It’s an easy habit when we’re more optimistic about the potential of our possessions than of ourselves. It’s an easy habit when we feel the need to find uses for used things, but feel like used lives are useless. It makes for a long, lousy life.

How different the accumulation of our lives would be if we treated it more like a valuable place than a place for valuables.

If you dig wholehearted and (sometimes) humorous writing like this, check out my blog: Thanks for reading. :)

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