This weekend my sweetie and I were headed out to take a walk, but decided instead to clean up a mile of the road that leads to our home. We figured it would take an hour or so, based on the litter we could see as we drove by. Nearly four hours later, and three trips to the dump, we were done! (Well, except for a few tires and a metal paint bucket that we need to dispose of at a different site).
We smelled funky, looked worse, and were both lamenting about our aching backs. No, there is nothing glamorous about picking up beer and pop cans, old carpeting, car batteries, and stuff I cannot and do not want to name. But, nothing a nice hot shower wouldn't fix.
Funny, I wasn't aware that I had avoided looking at our surroundings while they were littered and forlorn. But now the mile of Baldy Road before our lane is beautiful again (although we have seen a pop bottle that someone missed during cleanup).
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