Breakfast leavings

I'm proud to report that I've finally taken a load of compost to the dump / recycling / compost centre. For a reason I haven't investigated (yet), our building does not have curbside compost pickup like individual houses do around here. So it's up to an individual to a) throw everything away, or b) haul the compost to the refuse centre oneself. I'm one of those people that likes to think that everyone knows that I need something done and so some nice soul will step forward and make an offer to do a disagreeable task for me. Strangely, this happens less often than you would expect. Maybe I need to work on my heavy sighing.

In the winter, it's easy to put off taking the compost away because it's cold out and so the stuff doesn't smell. However, since we have a narrow-ish walkway to our front door, and the compost receptacle sits where anyone coming to our house gets to see it (although it is in a discreet little bin next to our regular garbage), it does need taking away regularly. It adds up more quickly than I'd have thought, I guess it's from all the fruit I go through when I make my breakfast smoothie. It gets heavy too!

I've considered various ways of making this more convenient for myself, even to the point of seriously thinking of lurking near the windows, waiting til I see the compost truck coming along and collecting all the neighbours' green wheelie bins full of compost, then running like mad, arms full of my compost bin, and asking them to pretty-please take it away with them. Somehow, my pride has not allowed me to try this.

So today, I packed down two bags, loaded them in my bicycle panniers, and off I went. Considering it's only a 5 - 6 minute ride, and there is little traffic to interfere with my journey, you wouldn't think it would be such a big deal. I was a little worried since it snowed a little yesterday afternoon and it looks kind of slick out that I might hit an icy patch and go sailing. The visual of myself in the middle of the street, compost all over me (because of course the panniers would rupture and the stuff would break out of its containment), while cars, bikers, and pedestrians looked on in amazement. That really didn't bear thinking about, but it sure kept me watching the road for ice and turning corners somewhat more slowly than normal!

Once at the refuse centre I don't even have to speak Dutch, something I can do in a pinch, but not too gracefully, since I cycle up, gesture to the man in the shed where I'm headed and continue on. What's kind of sad is the pile of kitchen leavings that looks so big to me at home (at least when faced with cycling it somewhere), once deposited on the communal heap, pales to insignificance. What's the big deal? Since I have just returned from doing all this, I can honestly ask myself that question. However, I know that when the next time comes, in just a couple weeks, I'll be working on my heavy sighs again! It's that or quit eating fruit and vegetables. And eggs. And drinking tea. Hmmm.