How to get your hair to smell like noodles

Remember how I talked about composting, and how we have a green compost dumpster? Well we also have a regular grey dumpster, in which you can deposit only the approved, paid-for, grey rubbish bags.

Here is a story.

The Hausfrau braved the bitterly cold rain last night, dressed in puffy jacket, wielding full grey Horgen bag in one hand and over-full compost container in the other.

She took a furtive look around and plunged recklessly across the grass, flying in the face of 'stick-to-the-paths' norms.

[I should mention at this point that she has received more than one 'tsk tsk' from the Grey Rinse Local in the next apartment block, as DS trotted with gay abandon across the grass, ignoring the Hausfrau's weak: 'Don't go on the grass, dude!'

Also, the Hausfrau lives in fear of The Caretaker, who has on more than one occasion been lurking as she cut corners. Not to mention the time that someone left a huge amount of polystyrene sheets out for recycling on cardboard recycling day. The polystyrene sheets were shortly and pointedly deposited outside the Hausfrau's apartment block door, leading the Hausfrau to believe that The Caretaker thought she was the culprit.]

So, back to last night: The Hausfrau strode across the sodden grass, and promptly slid on her bottom down the hill, spilling compost across her clothing and all across the grass.

She sat there for a few seconds staring in shock at the steaming array of foodscraps, but then quickly recovered herself and heaved the grey bag into the grey bin, and the remaining compost in to the green one.

She raced back to dispose of the evidence, scooping up handfuls of warm rice and old slimy noodles. Then, without thinking, tipped it... into the squeaky-clean, grey dumpster.

She looked at her massive faux-pas in horror, and made a snap decision. She would have to clean it up, or suffer the consequences - someone would undoubtedly go through her rubbish to work out who the culprit had been. (This was confirmed by a local Swiss Hausfrau today, who nodded sagely and said: 'Yes, they would investigate your rubbish, it's true!')

So into the dumpster dove the Hausfrau; legs flailing, lid resting on her muddy bottom, scraping desperately at noodles and potato peelings and half dead lemons.

Then she heard someone coming.

Who could it be, at this time of night, and in the pouring rain? How could she explain what was going on when she didn't even know the German word for 'Innocent', let alone 'Don't worry, I'm just doing a handstand in the dumpster'?

At that point, she started laughing, and in fact laughed so hard she fell further into the dumpster. Which was probably for the best, because by the time she got out they'd gone, and she was laughing so hard she could hardly stand, and that wouldn't have looked good.

When she finally composed herself, she returned to scrape the final bits of noodle off the hillside, and hoped that the rain would wash away the last tell-tale lumps of Weet-bix.

Relieved, she picked up the compost container, flicked her now Thai-chicken-noodle-flavoured hair out of her face, and sauntered casually to her apartment block on the path, lest she receive only black coal for Christmas.

PS. This post is especially for you, Mum. It's good to know what your daughter is up to.