One Man's Trash....

Ok so after many long excruciating months I am finally starting to prepare to go home. So of course my room is a sty, well more so than usual. I would have liked to began with some logical process to my packing, but since that requires patience and strategy I instead dumped everything happily into the middle of the floor (which by the way is only about 1ft by 4 ft) and then kind of sat and looked at it like a monkey looks at a wristwatch. I knew I was in trouble when I went to pick something up and then thought no, I should start with this other something and then no…better start with…actually…until I realized I had been doing exactly the kind of circling a dog makes before squatting to take a gigantic dump, but since I already had the gigantic dump in front of me I was only left with the look of extreme constipation (a rather frequent look for me) without any actual progress. Since I obviously couldn’t take all of the crap I had happily squirreled away in my little hole, I was going to have to prioritize what I could keep and what had to go. Hmmm…well let’s see I have an absolutely worthless purple feather boa, definitely a keeper that one. So with that on the keeper list I had to pick a loser….Eh, who really needs deodorant anyway right, it’s not like anyone would notice in this place. I had too many fond memories with my light up alien antenna headband, so I instead said goodbye to a few good tampons and my allergy medicine (viva la boo-gars). So I went on down eliminating until I had a medium sized box full of those items that had no place in my big pink feathered world. Being the nurturing giver that I am, yet still slightly lazy and unmotivated I opted to dump my pile o crap in the nearest trailer bathroom versus taking it all the way down to the barracks because again that would be (say it with me all you dedicated readers) entirely more effort than Blondie wishes to put forth in one day. So I crept towards the bathroom trying to keep a low profile (due to my highly illegal civilian attire, and troll doll hair style). I poked my head into the bathroom to assure I would have absolute privacy to begin the second dump of the day, because I really needed that box all the stuff was in. As I crouched over my box giving that container of floss one last look of consideration, the door swung open and I found myself backed up into the wall looking as guilty as my dog daisy when I catch her taking a crap in my closet. Staring in beady eyed fascination, were three of the little Filipino women that clean our bathrooms every day. They began closing in on me, circling chattering excitedly in a version of English I’m guessing they must have picked up from Bob my Sandwich Man because I only understood about every third word. Again with that monkey-wristwatch look going, and a 3-5 second delay on my brain to translate I began to understand that they were not going to tar and feather me for planning on leaving more stuff for them to clean up. They were instead trying to figure out if what I planned on dumping was free game, or just for soldiers. I made a sweeping gesture to indicate it was for anyone (since my bobeeze is still kind of rusty), and found my spidey senses saved me once again as I leapt nimbly out of the way as three Tasmanian she-devils leapt over one another towards my box. In a blur of fingernails, flying hair, grunts and giggling it was about three seconds before I did a double take and noticed that my once full box only had one super sized tampon spinning freely from the commotion left in it. Before coming to a stop, it too disappeared into the small claw of Jackie Chan’s kung-fu sister. I stood there mouth hanging open, with the other half of a small appliance that had only 4.5 seconds earlier been in that box clutched to my chest. They turned slowly towards me, and the thought occurred to me I could fake to the left and throw to the right and maybe the flying treasure would cover my retreat….Ok so I’m getting a little carried away, actually what happened is I was absolutely speechless and released my death grip on this part and handed it to the lady who had secured it’s other half. The hunt was over and they chirped away happily to me. I managed to get out a few pleasantries before making a hasty exit. I walked back to my hooch (slang term for my hole), shaking my head in disbelief at what I had just witnessed. I was slightly embarrassed that I hadn’t thrown away better stuff (guilty thought of the sheets I threw in there, that I’m not entirely sure were washed). I guess it’s true what they say; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I went back to my trailer, white trash that I was and took a nap.