I get to hang on the back of a truck as it motors around the streets and alleys of St. Paul. A treasure hunt, and they pay me for it. The work is simple. My mind is free, my body active, and my eyes alert. The trash yields treasures, and sometimes the timing is uncanny (literally, right out of the can).
Last month I opened a lid and there was an unused furnace filter, just our size and in time for our quarterly change. Saved us $30. Trash provides in mysterious ways.
I needed to drill a hole through metal on my scooter. Fortunately, Trash had provided a full set of carbide tipped drill bits a month earlier, plus two drills, cordless and electric, to choose from.
My colleague, Marc, has a spiritual gift for turning trash to treasure. I placed my order with him for a cast iron skillet in perfect condition and it arrived the next day.
I am beginning to develop a hagiography (theory of saints) around this, and suspect Saint Oscar (the Grouch) is the patron saint of trash. And we thank him for these blessings. Let me share a few of the hundreds we have received:
We only buy natural, non corn syrup, peanut butter, but apparently Oscar wanted Charlie to have the candy she loves. Sealed still of course, like the case of Betty Crocker toll house cookie mix that lasted a whole summer.
Unraise those eyebrows!