Rubbish!

I would say it is gross. Stinky and plain gross.
Then I realise someone gotta do the dirty job. Of getting rid of these gross, yucky disposal.

As I watch the two Indian guys clearing the rubbish  dripping which juice and flinging it into the disposal truck, it didn't strike me that what is gross to me is someone else's rice bowl.

It's hard to not be able to get a job that you want.
Everybody wants something.
I want to be famous. I want to stop being in the same lift with the bunch of chatty and loud, short neighbouring woman.
I want to have my own parking lot.
I want a career that I can perhaps be passionate at.
I have also wish that I can perhaps camwhore and get money - because that's my 'passion'.
I hope I can write and turn it into cash, just because I think I can write well.
Whatever.

I am sure the two Indian guys wants a decent meal. And be able to fork a big heap of curry chicken meat onto their plate instead of scooping gravy in hope to lower down the charges of that plate of rice.

I don't think they want me to perceive that they are equally as gross as what they are flinging onto the truck.
I don't think they want to grow old and tell the story of the famous Muthusamy - the garbage collector who made a living disposing gross, juicy rubbish from people who think that the rubbish is gross.

Given a chance, and a flip of fate perhaps, everybody wants something. But not everybody gets everything.
What is gross to you is another treasure to others, perhaps.

Tomorrow, I shall have a better way to garbage management.