“I’m faded and tired, completely uninspired…”  ~A portion of the lyrics of “For You” by Smile Empty Soul.

Technically, the song has nothing to do with the way I’ve been feeling, but that selection really describes my state of mind since my bout of sickness last week.

Not just to my blogging, but with almost everything.  Dishes are piling up, the laundry mound has begun showing signs of life, my books are sitting unread (shocker, I know) and…prepare yourselves…I’ve even lost my zest for cooking and eating.  This morning I sat behind the wheel staring like a drooling fool as the police crossing guard was motioning me to go ahead and turn.  I felt like a criminal when he finally had to blow his whistle to snap me out of it.

I’m just gonna go with the flow here and hopefully I’ll be back from my vacation from reality in a few days.

We’ve been living in our little corner of Hillbilly Heaven between the creek and the pond since May of 2004. If you’ve been reading me, you know I’m not an “outdoor person”. I’m addicted my HVAC unit, wireless internet, satellite TV and all my modern conveniences that the inside holds.

That being said, there are times where I do have to venture outside: getting to my car, checking the mail, taking pictures of the flora and the (ack!) occasional cookout. So I do actually recognize what my yard and the surrounding acreage looks like.

Since Skipper is an indoor dog, I walk him on a leash and I’ve been spending much more time outdoors.

In the six years living here, I’ve not once seen mushrooms in the yard.  Until yesterday.

Since I’m not a mushroom-ologist or fungus expert in any way, I have no clue what they are or if they may be dangerous to the dogs.  I’m pretty sure the pretty round ones on the right hitched a ride in with the azalea bush that was my Mother’s Day prezzie this year because they’re in a semi-circle around it.  The one on the left is a loner, probably imported by some of the wildlife common to the Creek.

No one in our home enjoys eating mushrooms and personally, I think its kinda icky having these things springing up in the yard.  I foresee some time spent on Google trying to figure out how to get rid of them for good.

More often then not, when I use the term “country trash” I’m talking about the bleached-blond with hair teased to epic proportions standing in the doorway of her trailer in a tube top, lycra capri-leggings and 4-inch heeled marabou slippers with the cigarette bobbing up and down while she’s screeching drunkenly at a blob-shaped pair of greasy coveralls protruding from underneath a Bondo and duct-taped rustbucket.

(I’ll give you a moment now to try to bleach that image out of your mind.)

Not today. Today, I’m talking about reason #8 that Country-Living Sucks. No Trash Pick-Up Service.

Rural folk have the pleasure of piling all their trash in whatever vehicle they don’t want to smell like rotting meat and 4-day old diapers and hauling it all themselves to a “convenience center”.  Basically, this is a gated concrete pad with two or three dumpsters on it staffed by Attila the Redneck, who’s sole purpose in life is to inspect your trash to make sure you don’t throw away something that another hillbilly might want to use.   If you’re very, very lucky…the dumpsters will still have room in them.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.   As a country resident, you don’t want to burn-out the pleasure cortex in your brain by repeating this process too often so you invest in some large plastic garbage cans.  In our case, we have three and each one will hold two full kitchen-sized trash bags of nastiness.  So it takes us approximately two weeks to fill the cans on our porch.  (Note:  all exterior trash must be in the cans or the roaming packs of dogs will home in on any unprotected garbage and have it scattered across the porch and yard in approximately 19.5 minutes).

So in being the really considerate and loving wife, I usually give the husband a 2-day notice before reaching maximum capacity, so the excitement of the trip can build and make it so much more enjoyable.  Occasionally though, there may be an excessive refuse day, an emergency crop up or he just wants to prolong the anticipation and all outdoor cans end up filled and the kitchen container is overflowing.  In the past, it was easy enough to store a bag on a rug in the corner of the kitchen until the next day.

Thanks to the newly adopted indoor furbaby, this is no longer an option.  I have a hard enough time keeping him out of all the wastebaskets in the house (Gah! The dog eats used Kleenex!!!), much less be able to tempt him with only a thin plastic bag between him and yummy trash goodness.  So, what’s a domestic genius to do since stopping the trash flow isn’t possible?

There you have it…I now have trash piled up on my countertop.

And I’ve become the one thing I swore I would never be…a nagging wife.  Maybe more like a “threatening with bodily harm” wife.

I’ve been completely remiss since before I went on vacation and school starting and I haven’t listed any Blogger Crushes lately.  Mostly because I’ve been really, really busy and I haven’t gotten to check out too many new-to-me blogs.  But hopefully I’m back on track now and I’ve got two really fantabulous bloggers this week:

Why Is Daddy Crying? and The Boogie Man is My Friend…

Both of them are hilarious and definitely worth the click over to read so make sure to go visit them!