Continuing our adventures in what feels like some sort of science fiction (who knew house ownership was so alien?), my sweetie and I made three trips to the dump today.
Yes, the dump is indoors. Strictly speaking, it is a "Disposal and Recycling Center," also known as a "transfer station." You back up to the chains guarding a precipitous drop down onto a mountain of garbage, and just chuck your stuff over the side. Presumably it gets transported later to a landfill somewhere.
My only regret is that I didn't get a picture of the huge earth mover, with all its windows covered in grillwork to protect its operator from flying garbage, that was pushing all of the garbage into that huge tunnel at the back of this picture (NO METAL. NO METAL). Everything was grey, industrial, and very, very dirty in a sort of post-apocalyptic sci-fi way. Seriously, I felt like I was in the sewer of the Death Star, though it was perhaps not quite as smelly. And no underwater monsters.