Taking Out The Garbage
Taking out the garbage is anti-love. It creates tension @ home. Two people who called each other ‘baby’ when the world was asleep, call each other ‘this woman’ and ‘this man’ when it’s time to take out the garbage.
Is there a his and hers timetable for taking out the garbage? She does, if they live in her house. He does if they live in his. The garbage becomes an issue when they move in together. Assumptions and presumptions are made, like cooking. We don’t cook for men. We cook because we’re hungry. We eat with people we live with. We even cook for unexpected midnight guests.
‘Always leave something in the pot child, in case someone drops by,’ said Mama.
This is not the 1950’s. Our apartments have a security gate and three locks. Condo security downstairs calls us if someone is looking for us. Therefore, nobody drops by. Mama was raised that way so she also raised us the same way. I digress. Where was I? Cooking. We cook because we’re hungry, not for men.
Which brings the truck back to throwing out the garbage. It’s ironic that something two people did as part of the love fest, is now a thorn in the flesh. They went shopping together, he pushing the grocery cart, she picking up the salmon, halibut, short ribs, turkey wings, chicken, frozen veggies and garbage bags. Very colorful. Food on the plate also has color. Potato peels and bones lose their color in the garbage and smell. Love flies out of the window.
‘We broke up?’
‘Why?’
‘Garbage. He avoided taking out the garbage.’
Nonqaba waka Msimang
Executive Blogger
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