Going to hell in a garbage pail
Talk about weird and unexpected.
This is the road in front of my house:
As you can tell, it’s heavily populated…
The road going by my back yard has a mobile home and a “house” that I’ll call a glorified tent.
To protect the identity of those who might disagree with my assessment of the situation, the glorified tent once belonged to a person who had a son. The son passed away in his early 20’s. After that kind of grief, who wants to live in a place so full of memories? The former owner sold it, moved to another county, and left a remnant of family behind.
Everything from party goers to crack addicts have lived in that ridiculously overpriced excuse for a residence over the past 13 (or more) years.
Only 3 of the residents were great neighbors.
The bad ones all had one thing in common. Every relationship ended badly, and they vacated the structure after splitting up.
We attribute these events to the ghost that inhabits it. He has good taste in people. After all, he likes us. He just doesn’t care a whole lot for thieves, crack heads and party goers.
Which leads me to the title of this pitiful post.
For the past 15 years, I’ve had 2 garbage cans in various poses out near the back road. Why, because there are some places that garbage trucks refuse to go, and the road to the front of our house is one of them.
Garbage trucks that are particular about the road they travel, aren’t as particular about how they treat your garbage cans. So…after another one was crushed under an uncaring wheel, my sis-in-law accompanied me to Lowe’s, where I found 2 very expensive trash cans with attached lid, wheels, and a 3 tall-kitchen-garbage-bag capacity.
For as long as it takes to grow a driving-age kid, these impressively sturdy protectors of putridness stayed in the weather outside the fence and no one ever bothered them.
Some piece of garbage stole one of them. It happened the same day that new neighbors moved into the glorified tent.
The new neighbors couldn’t possibly be that stupid.
What am I going to do…call the police and say, “Hey, someone stole one of my 15-year-old garbage cans that I leave outside the gate all the time?”
No worries. If we were blessed with a new set of unsavory neighbors, the ghost that haunts the glorified tent will drive them away. We’ll just sit back, listen to the sounds of arguing, wait a few months, and wonder, “Who will be the next icons of civilization to move in?”