I can officially say that Hoop and I have done it all together. Last night at about 8 o'clock you would have found us knee deep in muddy water at the bottom of a dumpster. A fucking dumpster. On Sunday I had finally gotten around to cleaning out the junk room. The only problem with cleaning out a room full of junk is, when you're done you end up with a room full of bags full of junk. Since our garbage man is particular about the amount of things he's willing to pick up in a given stop (read that again for the full stupidity of the statement to sink in), Hoop decided to throw our trash in one of the construction dumpsters down the street.
Doing illegal things totally sketches me out. So I played lookout while Hoop threw the trash in. We had everything from broken bed-frames (hehe), to an old vacuum cleaner, boxes, unaddressed letters from fourth grade, stuffed animals my dog likes to hump, and a slew of empty CD cases. We giggled like a couple of delinquents on the way home. I honestly hadn't thought of it again until last night when my Mom called. I could hear the panic in her voice as she slung out words like "cops" and "trouble." It took a little while to understand that someone had called her in regards to Hoop and my dumpster rushing.
I looked up at Hoop from our cold dinners and relayed the story. Evidently one of the boxes I'd thrown away had been addressed to Mom. The contractor had called the sheriff's office and been told to try and handle the situation himself. With a few clicks on the computer, he'd been able to pull up Mom's phone number and Voila. By the time we arrived, the dumpster had been raided. Nothing was in bags anymore. Papers and trinkets lay buried in a foot of muddy water and broken tile. Hoop and I took turns holding the flashlight and scooping up handfuls of smashed vacuum and soggy letters.
The builder, a goofy old redneck, ran around pointing out splinters of CD case and berating us for our foolishness. He went on and on about the fines his company would receive if we left anything behind. He joked about the "love" letters floating around in the water. I blushingly replied that letters from girlfriends in fourth grade could hardly constitute as anything so serious. He reiterated how he found the neighborhood kids digging through the bags. "They took some of your CDs!" I looked up, soaked and grumpy. "Well, they did find them in the trash. I can't be mad for them taking something I didn't want."
"Well, I've learned my lesson." I told Hoop as we unloaded the rebagged garbage at the foot of our driveway. "I'm sure that builder would be pleased to hear that dear." We laughed and shook our heads when we entered the house, fully registering the disgusting nature of our deed as the light hit our splattered clothes. Dumpster diving was never something I imagined myself doing. I don't recommend putting it on your "Rainy Day To Do" list. The only thing that made it worth while was the forty-five minute shower Hoop and I took together afterward. *Growl*