It’s time to install the new garbage disposal* yet here I am.
Its predecessor disposed of itself Monday night in a rattling, grinding paroxysm of destruction, brutally digesting its own entrails and leaking greasy drippings over the assorted spray cans and bottles of caustic chemicals that live in the dark just below the sink.
We put the old thing out of our misery and pulled the plug.
On the way home after a long day today, I picked up a replacement and some plumber’s putty. Since it was Tuesday, I hauled the trash and recycling to the curb. Since it was well past dinner time, too, I grilled ham and cheese between slices of sourdough and sat down with a cold beer.
The laptop was sitting right there, with my free digital trial of High Country News reminding me of an impending threat to the omnivorous Ursus arctos horribilis, my second-favorite mammal.
Not three feet away on the countertop sat the new fixture, a 1/3-HP chicken-bone pulverizer looking harmless for the moment but cleverly named for another voracious omnivore, Taxidea taxus.
Ah, Bucky, I thought. How many times have you chewed up, swallowed and crapped out Hawkeye fantasies of glory, you bastard?
Awesome marching band, though.
Funny how one thing leads on to something else and the next thing you know it is too late to deal with a simple plumbing task.
That’s why we have tomorrow.
Why is it not a garbage disposer? Are we the disposers who feed the disposal?