Dumpster Diving

I have hit the first snare in my new blogging hobby. My reader base has become too large. By that I mean, there are approximately 5 of you now. This presents two problems.

1. People actually expect me to update this thing, and expectation is my downfall.
   
2. My mother reads my blog. Haha. This is not a problem typically, but it may be for this particular post... :)
   

Consequently, I have reminded myself of the fact that one of the major purposes of this endeavor is to help me with my transparency and self-expression issues. Therefore, I will continue to write what I feel inspired to share. In this case, the best story I have recently involves digging through a dumpster in my parents' driveway. I don't like the dumpster.

Sidenote: can we start to add "ster" to the end of more verbs? Blogster should totally be a word. As in, "Hey, look at me! I'm a blogster!" Or would the blog itself be the blogster technically, because it is the thing onto which a blogger blogs, just as a dumpster is the thing into which a dumper dumps? Similarly, say someone writes on a chalkboard...could the chalkboard be referred to as a writester? ...The thing onto which a writer writes? Think about it...
[End Sidenote]

I don't like the dumpster. Treasures often get thrown into dumpsters. Either things that are actually junk, but are treasures for nostalgic reasons, or old things that presently have no nostalgic value but are just simply really cool and, by golly, should have nostalgic value because someone by now should have realized and appreciated their coolness. And yes, sometimes things get thrown into dumpsters that should be thrown away...don't get me wrong...I'm not THAT much of a pack rat...not THAT much....

But anyhow, when I heard there was a dumpster at Mom and Dad's house, I got nervous. Fortunately, I was with my grandpa at the time, and we had similar opinions of the matter. We pulled up the drive, I hopped out of Grandpa's car, and promptly hoisted myself into the dreaded red box. There was no actual GARBAGE in there, don't worry....it's not like I was rummaging through decaying food or vermin droppings...I was digging through old furniture, and lampshades that were still in their original packaging. All the while Grandpa was laughing and repeating, "What are these people thinking? They're crazy...Hey, I've got a lamp that could use a shade...hand that over here! I'm taking that home with me!..." etc. etc. The whole episode was highly entertaining. I salvaged a nice baseball glove and a few ping-pong paddles...I thought about saving a cool old clock radio with a mechanical display, but I really had no use for it...

And then Dad drove up the driveway, haha...at which time I conspicuously nosedived out and tried to hide while Grandpa covered for me. It didn't work. But Dad really didn't seem to mind... Or even be surprised. Somehow, nothing I do seems to faze him. :)