My kids usually get me up somewhere in the neighborhood of 6:30, which always feels way too early. This morning they let me sleep in until just about 7, at which point the garbage truck rumbled past, reminding me it was Friday morning. Slacker that I am, I hadn't put the trash out. Of course, slacker me has been aided lately by the fact that the garbage truck hasn't come until the afternoon for the last several weeks. Recycling? Sure, that occasionally comes nice and early. Trash? Always late.
I wasn't the only one caught off guard. In fact, when I ran outside I saw that all of two houses on the entire block had bins out, which went a long way to explaining why the truck was already past my house by the time I got out. Again, usually I hear it at the beginning of the block and can get things out by the time it reaches our house.
Like several neighbors I dragged my bin across the street (which hadn't been collected yet) and then waited for the truck to come again. About fifteen minutes later it arrived, dumped my bin, and continued on. Since I was outside with my ever excitable children I immediately picked up my bin. My bin which was still completely full. My lovely husband had filled the trash styrofoam, which I'm guessing was just static-y enough to prevent it and everything below it from actually falling out of the trash bin. Damn physics.