Dear Country Life,
I love you dearly.
You and I have a deep connection that goes beyond muddy roads and cow manure.
You know that I wouldn’t trade you for city life anywhere.
But I must say, the one thing that could make our love perfect and complete is if I could live my country life but still have our garbage whisked away in a garbage truck weekly. Oh, to have the garbage truck grace our driveway on a regular basis.
Maybe I should be writing this letter to the garbage man.
Dear Garbage Man,
I miss you. DEARLY.
I miss being able to thoughtlessly throw all – every single little piece – of our garbage into the trashcan and forget about it until trash day, when you would faithfully appear to whisk it all away.
For nearly five years now, I have devotedly and dutifully (if not always happily) sorted our garbage so that the non-burnable items would be separate from the regular trash, which my hubby hauls out to burn.
I hate sorting trash.
How I long for the days when tin cans, rotten lettuce, and tin foil could live harmoniously with the rest of our trash in our trash can until the day YOU would come and take it all away, no questions asked, no sorting required, no requirements on what could and couldn’t be included in my trash bags.
I don’t miss you enough to move back to civilized city life…but I just felt it was important to let you know that of all the comforts of life in town, you are what I miss the most.