As much as I like to complain, nothing in my life can compare to having what must qualify as one of the worst jobs ever: being a trash collector in Boston (or any city in the Northeast) tomorrow.
These thoughts crossed my mind as I took the trash out and pulled our large trash can (rubbish bin for you Brits out there) to the kerb (curb for you Yanks out there).
Even though it was about 8:30 pm, it was still in the 90s and if it were any more humid there would be fish swimming by. The odor eminating through the closed lid of the bin was repulsive. The trash already in there has had a chance to ferment in the heat today.
Some poor soul will have to march up and down the streets through the infernal heat, dragging these malodorous barrels of refuse to empty them into a large truck. I imagine that one must become imune to the smell, but the combination of the heat, humidity, and fermenting waste...
I will refrain from complaining for a while in honor of those who will toil to keep our abodes free of trash...
...just a little while, though.
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