Rolling the Trash to the Curb

Background

I live in a great neighborhood with large, shady trees. It was established in the late 1940's, early 1950's and has remained, for the very most part, really well maintained. People take pride in their homes and look out for each other. You can't beat it's location and it's just a great place to live. But like many old neighborhoods, it has sadly found itself on a sort of edge. It's most outward edge has become... shall we say, risky.

Rolling the Trash to the Curb

In the past, it was a given that you had the inalienable right to roll your trash to the curb the night before pick-up, without so much a glancing thought that someone would enter that sanctified container.

That, my friend, is the past. Witness:

1. On one evening before heavy trash pickup day, someone actually ripped open bags that I had placed neatly on the curb. Not only were the bags ripped, but the contents were strewn along the sidewalk, and items were missing.
2. That night, I re-bagged the items and left them on the curb. The HT people didn't come the following day, and when I got home from work, the bags were ripped open again!
3. I re-bagged the re-bagged items and made a poster board sign that read: "PLEASE DON'T RIP OPEN THE BAGS. IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN WHAT'S IN THEM, PLEASE TAKE THEM TO YOUR HOUSE TO GO THROUGH THEM".
4. I woke up the next morning and the bags were gone.
5. One night, I actually caught a man going through my trash can! Like an absolute fool, I flew out of the house in my pajamas ( and on my broom) and confronted him. Fortunately, he was a gentle old soul and I felt awful about my hostility. I even ended up helping find the various cans and metals. It was obvious that he needed those items, and while I felt my privacy had been invaded, his motive outweighed my anger.
6. On many occasions, I have walked out to the trash container (on the curb) to throw one last bag away, and I've found beer bottles and cigarette boxes on top. I know it's the neighborhood teenagers, and they mean no harm. I'd rather they throw them in a trash can (someone else's) than discard them on the curb.

All of this said, I've made it a rule to wait until morning to roll my trash to the curb.

Tonight, however, I feel safe. With pride and a sense of giddy amusement, I rolled my city-issued trash can to the curb.

Why pride and amusement?

Right on top of the weekly garbage, I placed a huge bag of dog poop.

Hurricane Rita: Journal Entries of a Hurricane Rookie

19 September - 25 September

You do what you can do to prepare, and then you journal for prosperity.

Luck was on my side this time, though. As I made preparations to leave, traffic was at a stand-still, in a universal effort to evacuate the city. In the end, I chose not to risk Miss C's life in the heat and traffic, as it might take 30+ hours in an un-air conditioined card to reach our place of escape, and to brace ourselves for the storm. And I was not alone. My neighbors were phenomenal.

And as it turned out, my destination... Nacogdoches... received far worse damage than did my neighborhood.

Check out my hurricane journal. I intend to keep it updated with survival and preparedness information, as well as to-do and stock lists.

Black Cloud Crosses Street

It's somewhat humorous to my friends that a black cloud appears over my head from time to time. I guess that's why I'm thought of as that person, "if it's going to happen to anybody, it's going to happen to you".

But it seems that that misfortune called upon my across the street neighbor last night. His truck was stolen, around 9:30pm, from his driveway... with all the lights on his house.

UPDATE: The truck was found, about a mile away, with only minimal damage. It had run out of gas.