How a DUSTBIN schooled me (A Lesson in Self-Worth)

I had been shoving things into my kitchen dustbin for 2 days over a long weekend. I pushed down hard each time.  Every item that went in I noted would be the last thing that would fit. But lo and behold, the old cow of a dustbin was a dark horse. She had lots more capacity for crap than I had given her credit for. She had a BIG Inbox for rubbish. I was happy.

 

She got me thinking:

Isn’t it amazing how much crap (aka bullshit) we accept?

Isn’t it funny how much shit we think we’re made to take?

Isn’t it fascinating how much grime, dust, dirt and other people’s nonsense we’re open to receiving?

Isn’t it interesting how we take more and more and more and more pushing when we’re already sick of it? 

 

When Monday afternoon rolled around, I knew that there were only a couple more hours to go before the long weekend was over.

 

My dustbin was acting up. Big time.  The cow was getting cocky. Pushing back at me.  I tried a pizza box, but she resisted.  I tried something more eco and diet friendly, but she wasn’t accepting the old tofu (don’t ask!) either.  Stupid tart!

Again, she got me thinking:

Isn’t it amazing how our tolerance for crap (aka bullshit) decreases as time goes on?

Isn’t it true that our capacity for rubbish shrinks with time?

Isn’t it beautiful how much grime, dust, dirt and other people’s issues we just close off to? 

Isn’t it magical how we simply take less and less and less pushing when we’ve had enough?

 

I decided to deal with the rebellious dustbin in the old fashioned way: I decided to ignore her.  I left her to deal with her own “issues” of boundaries, self-worth, value, dignity. I knew better than to mess with a cow who has had enough!

 

Allow me to wish you strength in dealing with your own capacity for bullshit too.  It’s a dirty business, but let’s face it, the more shit you take, the more shit you will get.  Only YOU can decide when enough is really enough and when is the moment you decide to cancel your subscription to the circus casting call.

 

Aluta continua, as they say. The road to calling that “end” is often a tad too long…

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

A Village Missing its Idiot

My new friend told me that her husband didn’t like her talking to me. 

She would end her chats with me very abruptly and hurry away each time she heard him in the distance. 

I asked her what exactly the issue was. She said “he thinks you will give me ideas.”
 

The dude was right, in a way. I guess I did give her ideas but they were all about food. That’s all we ever talked about: food. She and I both loved cooking. 

I wondered what the thesis for his “ideas” paranoia was but didn’t dwell on that too long. I knew it was futile to try and understand his mental jumble sale. 

I bumped into him at a supermarket one morning. He pretended to be looking at something else. I was looking homeless, so I went along with the game.

When it happened a second time, I had to laugh. The dude seriously wasn’t messing around. I watched him stare at some Listerine for 7 minutes straight. 

They moved to another city soon afterwards.

She gave me no forwarding details because Mr Listerine told her that they didn’t need to keep contact with any “old friends”. 

I was relieved when they left. (Because God knows that a village somewhere was missing their idiot) 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content