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The Letter Of Verification
Today is my sister Sarah’s birthday, although that fact has for many years been obscured by something about Elvis.
The other day I asked my favorite waitress down at the diner where it is locals haul their trash, since there is no trash pickup here. She said oh down by the highschool there on 211. Easy enough. I will look for the sign.
I’ve been storing household garbage from the two houses on this property in this here guest house garage. In heavy construction grade trash bags.
I got scared late one night from the imaginary snort of a black bear. I had been on my way up to the big house for a snack, as I can’t seem to keep any food in this house. From the pitch blackness of that small area of woods surrounding two sides of this house came a snort which may have been from a black angus heifer across the road. But why be reasonable?
I ran back into the house like the girl that I am and decided I could wait until the morning for food. Two eggs, a small ribeye, home fries, toast, coffee and juice is my default 5.99 breakfast.
The next morning I decided that if heifers were going to start imitating bears I really should take action and haul that garbage to the uh refuse station over by the highschool.
I Took a right out of the driveway, past the Chevron station and up to 211. Took the right towards Sperryville. Passed the sign signifying Rappahannock refuse and made the first U-turn, then the first right past the sign. Down a road to the elementary school. Came out, rechecked the sign and drove down two different private drives before I realized the sign was not to being taken literally.
I eventually overcame my spacial confusion, pulled in and started flinging bags. After the second one rang out the fact that I was not recycling my beer and wine bottles I placed the bags in the bin more carefully. Who knew I drank that much wine and beer?
I was anticipating what happened next so as I was driving away and a guy came out of the booth and asked me was I a Rappahannock resident I said to him well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, acting as if I had been on my way to see him instead of the more likely scenario of me as refuse dumping criminal.
He gave me a card with the name of a person down at the courthouse and on the back of the card were the three words denoting the thing I would need in order to dump my trash in the future: letter of verification.
Now that’s all I can’t think about, that damn letter of verification. I’m wondering if there is a strip search involved? Speaking of strip searches I know I should be thinking about sex instead of letters of verification but who can think about sex at a time like this?
So, what I’m telling you? There’s all manner of work to be done here.
Where The Ghetto?
Ima get a complex if this keeps up. Another friendly (nosey) neighbor come up to the house last night with a “welcome to the neighborhood” gift, a damn plant, and look at me with that same incredulity I got from that other neighbor last weekend. I told both these people the same thing, more or less, I’m the new caretaker, or, Ima looking after the place is what I told them and the one guy actually said–Are you REALLY the new caretaker?, and the other guy, well, he just looked scared at first, probably on account of I just come out of the pool looking, I don’t know, maybe too much a long hair or something, but goddamn it, this is the way it is out here now, you know, for however long, and (I’m not saying I opened the gift card and am taking this quote directly but so what if this is “the premier property in all of Rappahannock”) so don’t sweat it there’s a new fool on the hill, freak in the big house, johnny come lately. I might let you come swimming sometime. I mean I said come anytime didn’t I? Even though you and I know I was just being polite and that you can’t take anything that caretaker says to the bank. That guy’s probably searching the Internet as we speak, looking for a good hippie manual.
But I’ll chill for a minute because people sure seem to have a sense for that out here. And I don’t want to get people talking about that hippie on the hill having self-esteem issues. Even though, let’s face it, a person with a full head of self-esteem is just someone who doesn’t ask very good questions.
I’m adaptable though. Ghetto dweller, King of the Hill, same thing, different view.