Okay, let me set the scene. I am 81 years old with white hair, and my sweet husband is a young 88-year-old with a beautiful head of silver gray hair.
We had a broken reclining chair that we managed to get into the back seat of our car and headed over to the recycling center off Hollister. We were greeted and when the worker looked at the recliner, he said “Sorry, but we can’t take that.” I was kind of shocked and replied, “Where can we take this?” He quickly said, “The county dump.” “Okay,” I said. “Where is that?” He immediately replied, “It’s over there by the county jail!” I turned to my husband and asked, “Do we look like we would know where the County Jail is?”
We headed home, had lunch, and googled the county dump. We headed out, and when we pulled in, I said to the attendant, “I was born in Santa Barbara but this is my first visit to the dump!” He warmly welcomed me and said what a shame this was my first time because I wouldn’t have seen all the changes over the years made to the dump!
He directed us where to unload the chair and we were quickly headed back home. Ah, building memories!
