Our failed attempt at becoming doomsday preppers.

We thought we could be self-sufficient, but our neighbors will have to look elsewhere for their hero.
Author, and failed doomsday prepper, Peter Crosby

After buying our first actual house, my wife and I had fantasies of growing our own produce, raising a few chickens, and maybe even going “off the grid.” So when the City of Tampa announced a composting program, we saw it as a first step and eagerly attended their mandatory online training seminar.

Sticking it to Big Soil.

In October 2021, an enormous composting bin arrived, and we immediately set it up in our side yard. All we had to do, next, was fill it with food scraps, coffee grounds, and palm fronds. Nature would then work its maggoty magic and—boom!—we'd have dirt for days. No more store-bought soil for us.

Doomsday be damned.

There was just one tiny problem, friend. We didn't. Not once. Not even ever. Instead of burying us in organic, nutrient-rich loam, the bin sat out in our yard, untouched. For nearly two full years, it mocked our doomsday-prepper aspirations silently (except for that time a squirrel got trapped inside).

Failure, it turns out, is an option. 

Last week, I called the city to retrieve and “repurpose” the bin, as it's still in appallingly pristine condition. It will take them 3–5 days, during which time that colossal composting receptacle will remain at the end of our driveway—like a beacon of shame and defeat—informing all our neighbors that we won't be much help in a full-on zombie attack.

doomsday composting bin
So sad and lonely.

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