Before I met Jay, I had no concept of Dumpster Diving.
I could not fathom how you could willingly go through someone else’s trash, find something and actually use it. Er, doesn’t that mean you have to be homeless, desperate and/or cheap?
Well, six and a half years, many dumpsters and furnished apartments (Herman Miller tables, people!) later, I stand corrected.
We are not homeless. Maybe we’re semi-desperate. And perhaps we’re a little cheap.
But I have developed a Pavlovian response to dumpsters. I stop whenever we pass one, and without looking back, I know that Jay is already checking it out.
We were walking home today when Jay’s spidey senses activated. He saw tables. He saw a giant dumpster. He saw possibilities.
If not for the copious amounts of bird doo-doo on the tables, we would have carried one home.
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