In the Dumps

Rose and I went to the dump (sorry "transfer station") this morning. I had been putting it off for a while but two months worth of rubbish and an old plastic dog bed I have been trying to ditch for the past three years finally got to me.

I've never been to the Waipukurau dump (Transfer Station) before but we paid the $9 fee for a carload of stuff and made our way past the sewage treatment pond with accompanying hungry seagulls towards Nirvana. Around were piles of treasures including a near perfect ladder, a hot water cylinder Rose wanted to take for drain water, piles of tyres we reckoned would be perfect for growing potatoes, and a few extremely interesting items we couldn't recognise but figured could come in handy.

Unfortunately you can't steal from the dump like you could in the good old days when my brother found a lawnmower with petrol in it, took it home and mowed the lawn. Rose was particularly distraught at all the useful things she could make something of if given half the chance. For me as a Longshaw, a family known for never throwing away ANYTHING as it might come in useful for something in the coming millennium I was breaking all known family rules by throwing out a dog bed that was perfectly good except for being half eaten from when Mishka had been a pup twelve years ago. Even Rose said it was hurting her to have to ditch it. Then as we drove away she sighed and said "Tonight I will be dreaming of this paradise".

Demelza is still punishing me for puppy sitting Molly. I have washed the sheepskin from her bed but despite getting rid of the doggy smell she sits by it gazing stonily out the window in disgust. However Gypsy is thrilled with this unexpected outcome and has taken it over for her evening nap. Cats are ever opportunists.