The Great Garbage Caper

 

         What a truly odd day.  

          After a pleasantly slow start – tea, toast, reading – I put on my yoga togs and prepared to leave. As I opened the door leading to the garage, I managed to bang my big toe – my bad toe that was already having iffy nail issues after stubbing it two days before. Blood ensued, but I slapped on a band-aid, put on my sandals, and headed into the garage.

          First, though, I needed to bring in the trash cart and the recycle bins since the garbage men had already made their Friday morning visit at 8:30. Going around the back of my car and into the driveway, I looked and nothing waited on the curb to be brought in. No bins and no trash cart. We love this trash cart deeply. It’s a sturdy blue plastic garden cart that’s just the right size to hold the bins, will turn on a dime with its big wheels, and has a long handle for pulling it.

          Gone. On my way to yoga I stopped alongside out trash guy. Nope, he hadn’t seen it.

 My Guy put out the trash last night around 12:30, and we figure that between then and 6:30 (Which is as far back as our Nest garage camera logged movement) someone must have taken it.

          Okay, I get that someone would steal the cart, but our bins? Full of old newspapers, plastics, 1 can, 1 wine bottle, two ratty garage rugs and a disassembled cardboard box? And our black bag full of actual garbage?

          (The only logical explanation is my past of working summers at the CIA -yes, I really did – is catching up with me, and there are teams even now sifting through my banana peels and eggshells.)

 

          Currently, My Guy is off to the giant retailer to see about getting another cart (which I hope we can get them to assemble this time. The first one was a nightmare) and I’m here with a throbbing toe – turns out a banged toe does not appreciate Down Dog.

 Oh, and to add to the merriment, a nice man came at noon and shampooed the bedroom rugs upstairs and down, so much of that furniture is now piled in the living room with little hope of order being restored till tomorrow when the rugs are dry.

          Icing on the cake? I’m on a suicide watch for my big toenail, which is showing definite signs of abandoning ship.