Last night was bin night. I know this because I nearly hit two wheelie bins that the houseboat owner had placed touching the edge of the bitumen and over the end of my driveway.
I was not happy about this bin placement. There have never been any issues before and I don’t know what part of my driveway they couldn’t see when putting them out or why they didn’t think they would get in my way.
As is the case with most things you find irritating, I shared this gripe with Bro #2 when he came to visit to see if I’d done his washing for him. Actually, on reflection, I think that Bro #2’s comments about expecting me to know that his clothes strewn on the spare room floor were all dirty and that he wanted me to automatically wash them got me wound up in agro mode.
All het up with vehemence, I asked if he’d hit the bins out the front when driving in the driveway. He didn’t really know what I was on about, but I soon filled him in about inappropriate bin placement and disrespect for my driveway in one of those loud, accusing, fishwife type voices.
Later, as Bro #2 drove away, I heard something that sounded like when the garbage truck collects the bins. I peered out the window but didn’t see anything except my brother’s big 4WD ute zooming off down the road.
Heading off to lunch with friends, I had cause for a big ole grin and giggle as I drove down the driveway. Bro #2 had stuck up for big sister and her feelings and nudged the two offending bins with his big bull bar and knocked them over and off my driveway. Seems he brought a little bit of his bulldozer driving job for Dad into town for me.
It’s times like these that I love my little brother like crazy. *heart*
(Please let it be known that these were not the bins of my neighbour who actually lives next door, as their bin is always in their front yard and we are friends)