And I love my trash chute

"How did that jar of green olives get there?" I wondered.

There was half a jar of green olives in the door of my fridge. I don't recall buying green olives. They were, apparently, quite old, for their olive green color was now a mottled grey.

"Oh yeah! It was for puttanesca sauce." I recalled. Only I call it 'nesca sauce because "puta" is a very bad word where I come from and we just don't say that. It comes close to the N-word in South Texas. So, my friend and I have taken to calling it 'nesca sauce.

I wish I'd remembered that I had a jar of green olives because I would have made 'nesca sauce more frequently. It has everything I like: green olives, capers, anchovies and hot red pepper.

So, the dead green olives went down the trash chute. So did the tube of anchovy paste. Lord only knows how long that's been hanging.

Hmmmm. What else needs to go?

Ooops! A forgotten container of fuzzy garbanzo beans. I didn't even want to open it. Container and all went down the chute.

The green curry from the Thai place that Miss Healthypants and I went to last week. Better not risk it.

There was a half a cabbage in the vegetable bin that was looking like a cheetah; yellow with black spots. Cabbages shouldn't resemble cheetahs. Bye.

Out goes a petrified lime. It had turned brown and hard as a rock. There was also a mummified finger of ginger. It goes too.

There was a container of ground whole oats in the freezer. (I knew I wouldn't eat that!)

Moving to the pantry . . . A half a bottle of single-malt Scotch was way on the top shelf. I can't stand the stuff. Why did I have that?

Oh yeah. That was for Steve and he's an asshole now. It almost went down the trash chute, underlining the fact that Steve is now an asshole, but I remembered that Iwanski likes the stuff. Iwanski is not an asshole so I saved it for him. It was his lucky day.

Whole wheat noodles. Again, what was I thinking? Trying to be healthy. Out! Out!

Clothes closet: Two old suits I haven't worn in six years. (Yeah, like those will fit). Three plaid shirts (I only wear solids now) three pairs of khaki trousers from a decade ago.

All stuffed down the trash chute.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I should donate them to a clothing place but I don't know where one is and I'm not about to schlep these clothes all over downtown. Besides, used clothing places keep only about ten percent of what's donated to them. The rest goes to paper recycling. Or that's what I tell myself, thus justifying my laziness by tossing everything down the trash chute.

Besides, trash chutes are fun.