I don’t recall having that many chores as a child, other than keeping my room clean; making sure my bed was made each morning and toys and things were off the floor and put away at the end of each day.
When I got to high school, it was all about keeping my grades above average and being home by curfew, a rule I consistently broke.
I do recall getting in trouble a lot, especially this one time I was on trash duty.
I loathed this task. I still do!
Don’t let anyone tell you different, trash is nasty, stinky, smelly and gross and trash duty sucks!
My job was to gather the trash from all rooms in our home and take it to the dumpster, usually just outside our house, but when I was sever years old, we lived in a cul-du-sac and the dumpster was (for some strange reason) several houses away. Maybe it was a communal bin or something?
I dreaded making the trek every single time I was faced with it.
Instead of making the complete walk, I found a short cut in the form of a neighbor’s storage shed half way between our house and the actual place the garbage was to go.
As you can imagine, it wasn’t long before my parents were notified of my dirty deed.
And not long after that, there was yelling and tears and then there was me on my hands and knees picking up every last take out container with food remnants, balled up piece of paper, yogurt container, banana peel, cans with liquid still inside, nail clippings, used Kleenex, Q-Tips and other unmentionables, chewed gum, egg shells, packaging, yuck, muck and every other disgusting item you can think of that we discard.
You see, while everything was bagged, it wasn’t tied shut. This was in the days before drawstring.
I threw up twice and I’m quite sure I wasn’t allowed sugar cereal or able watch The Donnie & Marie Show for at least a month.
I still hate dealing with trash.