Finally, the holidays are over. M. is back in school today, which means we get to work our way back into our normal routine. She reminded me last night that I utterly failed at the one thing I wanted to accomplish with her over the break: master tying her shoes. Oh well, she’s waited this long. It won’t kill her to put it off another month. She can read a 150 page book in a night, but she can’t tie her own shoes. I love the little contradictions in our kids.

Speaking of routines, our trash day changed last week. Our service now runs through the city rather than through our HOA. What makes it especially difficult is we had been a Monday pickup neighborhood since we moved here. So, for 8 1/2 years my routine every Sunday was to gather up all the trash in the house, load the dumpsters, and roll them out to street. The only hard part was remembering whether it was a recycling week or not. Somehow I managed to only forget that once, and it was the week before Christmas, which was a bad time to have an overloaded recycling bin.

Despite leaving myself many mental reminders, predictably I rolled out of bed at 7:45 last Wednesday, looked outside, saw all the other trash bins in our cul-de-sac out, and made a panicked dash to get ours out before the truck came. Only it didn’t come, since Monday was a holiday, so I looked doubly foolish. I figured that was payback for all the Monday holidays when I smuggly gazed at the neighbors’ bins while I was the only one who remembered there was no pick-up that morning.

Why am I sharing this? Because many times over the years I’ve thought about writing an ode to the Monday trash pickup. It’s perfect, in my view. You immediately get rid of any extra trash you accumulated from weekend entertaining or cleaning projects. You’re starting the new week off fresh. And there’s a built-in reminder, as you do you other Sunday evening preparations for the coming week.

Wednesdays are devoid of meaning or benefits when it comes to trash. I’m going to have to write it on the family calendar until it becomes second nature. If/when we move, I think going to a Monday trash neighborhood will be high on my list of desires in a new home.