Guilt and Garbage

 

          It’s currently 32 degrees outside, although the psychic people at the Weather Channel ap tell me it feels like 27.

How do they know what it would feel like to me? I’m currently tucked up inside, cozy in my computer corner, happily distanced from the chilly white world outside my window. If I were to step outside, I think I can safely say that it would feel more like 15 to me.

          And there’s the problem. Today is trash day. I heard the men in the giant blue truck come and go, which means our recycling bins need to be brought back to the garage. Simple enough. Except our sweet neighbor on the other side of the driveway persists in bringing them back for us, and I’m rarely able to beat her to it and return the favor. Thus, I leap up like Pavlov’s dog at any sound larger than a car engine so I can avoid this weekly guilt trip.

          I repeat – it’s 32 degrees out, so whatever’s going on in the driveway can darn well wait till the afternoon when I run my errands.