More notes from Spain. OK, really, undies and garbage.

One of the things (sorry Nomad) about out apartment that is LESS thrilling is the garbage outside our place. Now I am not talking litter, but a garbage center for lack of a word in English. You see, back in Canada, we each had our own garbage cans and every house brought it out on garbage day. Not here. There are larger boxes, plastic, all colour coded so you know which is for bottles etc etc etc. They are pretty big too, good 5 feet high, 6 feet wide and 5 feet deep. You bring your garbage out anytime and the guys come around and pick it up whenever. No more running out in barefeet, shorts and a t-shirt in January when it is 20 below and there is 4 feet of snow because your going to miss the f*&%#ing truck and then have a domestic with your spouse that night because the garbage didn't go out.... VERY civilized. On the whole. The flies in the summer are a bit of a drag because we are near by. Also the bar/restaurant gets free garbage disposal, but they overwhelm the boxes here sometimes making it look pretty squalid now and then. The bottles are another funny issue. The box for the bottles is the same size as the others, but the lid is hard to move. Instead they have two holes in the top, lined with rubber flaps so you have to shove the bottles through resulting in the most exquisitely satisfying smashing sounds as they land. The waiters at the restaurant delight in this at 4 in the morning....

The other amazing thing about Spanish garbage cans (never thought you'd know so much, eh?) is that when they come by to pick them up, they hose out the insides of them. The machine holds them up and power washes the insides before they are replaced. (Too bad they don't do that in Canada, that was always me with a hose and a look of disgust when I realized that maggots were growing in there). Here's the kicker though....amazing and SO Spanish. The water they hose it out with is PERFUMED!!! I can smell it, all floral and lovely from the second floor! The garbage men must go home smelling like tarts at the end of the day from the by-spray.

Finally, I'm back on undies again. In the spirit of investigative journalism/ cultural integration/ noseyness/ am-I-really-as-frumpy-as-my-kids-think questioning I bought A THONG today! A boring one I will grant, northern european skin coloured cotton. No lace. In the interst of scientific robustness, I isolated the experiment there. I bought it in the market no less, where people who know me saw me, but then again they were looking too. I've been wearing it today and the verdict is.....I do not need to work this hard. Ya know, thongs are for people in outfits to be SEEN if you follow me, and they wear this crap to attract the, well, we all know what. I am too stuffy/boring/frumpy/just-plain-married to wear them. Only problem is that now I own them and I know I am too cheap to just chuck 'em, so I will tow them around with me for the next decade till they wear out.....a perfectly good, albeit uncomfortable pair of undies...

Note, there will be no visuals of me in the new undies. Ever. The stall I may manage some time....this really does want some sort of visual.