IIt’s Saturday, and my wife wants me to walk on a dog before I go to dump, which kills me a lot. I would prefer the dog walk and dump trip to the same rotation. I am upset about it, and prevail.
The purpose of the dump visit – only by appointment – is to get rid of an old wood desk that has been rotating under the tarpaulin in the garden for two years. Given its solid green level, I miss the Architect drawing board that I owned and loved for 30 years, the drawing board that was also deported for a time after our move Even my wife finally paid to take her. Without my knowledge – a monster cheating.
It was a few years ago. At that time I promised myself that I would never forget, and even though I was forgotten, I remember now, and its injustice is revolving again.
“Will it fit into the car?” My wife says that when we are staring at the desk, one of us is thinking about the drawing board.
“We have to see,” I say, making the rain ward drawer inch inch.
The desk is fit, but the opposite and just justice. Along with the second junk, my wife is also filled, with the place of the back seat.
“When is our appointment at dump?” I say, watching my phone.
“11.30,” my wife says.
I say, “This is not even 10.” “That means I have to walk on the dog first.”
My wife chooses to turn this moment. When I close myself in tolerance, I see my drawing board. I decide to leave immediately.
On the back door, I see a large plastic flower pot, which is half full of clay. I have a strong desire to kick this vessel, with so much strength that it is to travel over the fence (I can go and later get it, when it is dark). Then I change my mind. Then, as I get closer, I change it back.
I do not catch a flower puddle clean. I just manage to knock on it, but then my feet collide with the edge of a garden, which is bent against the house. It embraces the ground with a bright ring, which may have been satisfactory if it was deliberately.
“What are you wrong?” My wife says I say nothing; I still wander around the corner unless I get out of sight so that I can suffer.
I wait for a shortage of acute pain, but that doesn’t happen, so I put my coat. When I and the dog arrive at the park, I’m roaming. Before we are halfway, I will start to surprise whether I broke my left foot, or just hurt it.
Discrimination seems important: If his wounds get, I am very foolish. If it is broken, I probably needed consultation. The case note will be written, “It also had the strength of anger,” that he had caused himself to injury, which requires immediate care. “When I explain that I intended for a flower signal, no one will be able to hear.
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When I return from the park, the time has come for a dump. It seems that my wife has forgotten – or is choosing to ignore. If I didn’t have so much trouble in my feet, I would be ready to do so.
“What did you get?” The person in the glass booth at the dump door says.
My wife says, “Furniture and domestic waste.
“Why do they ask?” I say, after that when we are waving.
My wife says, “I think I make sure I said the same as I have applied online.”
When she drags two bun bags of domestic garbage across the tract, I picked up the desk from the boot from her legs and, standing it against her hip bones, rotated by a platform on top of a scrap wood skip. – I raised it aside, push it one and see it against the other broken furniture. It is very satisfying.
On the way home, the pain in my feet begins easily. Only when I get home and kick my shoes with relief, do I see my left sock wet in the blood? I think: this is not ideal.
By pressing my big toe with clothes when I drive it under a bath tap, I decide now that the time has come to forget the story of the drawing board, which is now more than five years old, which I get it difficult for me. Casting yourself as an innocent victim. Then I think: never.
And then I think: I need to hide this sock.
