Trashy

It's Wednesday.  Trash Day.  The first Trash Day that I've remembered in THREE weeks.  Luckily it's been freezing here, so the month's worth of diapers, cat litter and other assorted stink bombs piling up in my garage went basically unnoticed.  This would be an entirely different kind of entry if it were the middle of summer.      Anyhoo~  There is a limit on  the number of garbage bags that one can set out for pick up, and although that number is somewhat sketchy around here, (say, between 6-9), I'd exceeded that amount by... a lot.  Remember, it was Christmas Trash.  And I have children.  And cats.    SO~ I put what I thought was an acceptable number of bags out at the curb, and then began to bestow my neighbor's, (on both sides), curbs with my extra bags, in an attempt to trick the trashmen into taking every last Hefty away.  As I shut my garage door and brush my hands together in that I-just-accomplished-something-major kind of way, I noticed that there was a dog roaming the neighborhood, looking for select garbage to tear into.  It's a pain in the ass when a dog tears up the garbage, let alone when your garbage isn't just limited to your own curb.  So, I stood guard.  And for the first time in THREE weeks, the trashmen were late.  When they finally came, imagine the looks on their faces when Crazy Lady, (me), welcomed them by jumping up and down in the middle of my driveway, clapping and woo-hooing for all to hear.  The first thing I did after my Trash Sentry?  Made a shopping list to buy trash cans.  Giant ones.  And then I added a perpetual entry to my AOL calendar for Tuesday nights.  It will now remind me to, "Get the trash to the curb, loser."