Alexander Nicholi
what do you know about computing?
- 5,500
- Posts
- 14
- Years
- Age 26
- Research Triangle / Jakarta
- Seen Feb 14, 2024
So I'm on my PC doing stuff, and I get called for a trash run. Cool, okay. Let's take out some trash. My sister gets the two kitchen trash bags, and I get my two trash bags from my room. I double knot mine like I always do, and before we got back Burt (our uncle Jamie, we call him by his surname Burt or Mr. Burt) made some sort of half-truth speculation on my sister and I not knotting our trash bags completely.
I've known Mr. Burt for years, and even his wife (my mom's sister) has established he's not the brightest of people when saying or doing things. This couldn't be more of one of those cases. And so, our mother unleashes hell on us (something she never does) and sends us to dump out all of the bags in the dumpster and check their knotting. I checked my two bags (which were secure), and my sister checked hers. None of the four we put out there ten minutes ago were loose that I recall. But it didn't stop there. She had us sort through the other two bags which were under pizza boxes and covered in human vomit. I thankfully escaped those two, but my sister had to check them, which meant she had to touch them. They were both secure, and she had to take a shower afterwards; I only needed to wash my hands because I didn't touch the filth in the bottom of the can. My sister starts crying when checking the second bag, and doesn't stop until after she went to her room.
The bright side is I was told that we'd never have to take out the trash here again, our mother saying that Burt can "take out his own damn trash" lol. And I washed my hands a second time in the kitchen with about as much dishsoap that would fit in my curled palm.
I've known Mr. Burt for years, and even his wife (my mom's sister) has established he's not the brightest of people when saying or doing things. This couldn't be more of one of those cases. And so, our mother unleashes hell on us (something she never does) and sends us to dump out all of the bags in the dumpster and check their knotting. I checked my two bags (which were secure), and my sister checked hers. None of the four we put out there ten minutes ago were loose that I recall. But it didn't stop there. She had us sort through the other two bags which were under pizza boxes and covered in human vomit. I thankfully escaped those two, but my sister had to check them, which meant she had to touch them. They were both secure, and she had to take a shower afterwards; I only needed to wash my hands because I didn't touch the filth in the bottom of the can. My sister starts crying when checking the second bag, and doesn't stop until after she went to her room.
The bright side is I was told that we'd never have to take out the trash here again, our mother saying that Burt can "take out his own damn trash" lol. And I washed my hands a second time in the kitchen with about as much dishsoap that would fit in my curled palm.