A Cracking Noise...

The process of moving into an apartment is full of interesting learning experiences.  I just returned from the recycle place on Ellsworth Rd. in Ann Arbor and it was an experience.  

I was expecting I'd have to wait in line because I didn't get there until about 5 p.m.  I thought I'd have competition from other recyclers that were dropping their things off after work.  That theory was wrong.  (they probably go on Saturday) I didn't have to wait.  I did have to drive through mud and slush up to my bumper.  I was surprised at the rugged entry to this huge place.  You pay $3 to enter at a little booth.  I told the woman with the mint-green hat, that I had never been here before.  She said, "Just go through door #4 and they'll help you, just tell them, what you told me."

Door #4.  It looked dark and mysterious inside that huge warehouse.  I drove in, having to decide which tracks to follow, since I didn't want to get stuck in the mud.  Once inside, I drove to the right, thinking, "I'll stop when I see someone".  A young man, eating a sandwich, looked up and told me to back up into the next section of the building, where there were huge bins with labels.  I dropped my plastic and styrofoam off first.  Then, started to back up to the bins labeled, "Cardboard".  

It was pretty dark in the building and I wasn't really sure how far to go.  I stopped when I heard a cracking noise.  I got out and looked and was relieved I had only run over the corner of a wooden pallet. (and that no one seemed to care) I tried again and eased up to the bin.  Another young man (who was reading a book), walked up and helped me with the two loads of cardboard.

I drove out a different door.  I saw the signs directing me to exit.  The huge mud puddle was enough to make me think twice before driving through to the outside mud and slush.  But, I figured everyone else does the same thing and no one is stuck or stalled there in that little pond.  

It was worth going to the recycle center.  I was feeling pleased when I headed back to my apartment.  

Now that I got rid of all those boxes, I have more walking space and can get around a little bit better.  My brother, Jim, said he'd take the old bench I couldn't let go to auction, when I moved from Gaylord.  It's sitting in my new living room.  I couldn't say, "NO!" when the 2 men with a truck asked if it was going. There are a few other items I should have left behind, but I'll figure it out.