Garbage day is Tuesday. I missed putting out the recycling for the second week in a row. The bins are overflowing. We can’t go another week like this. At the most, one day. I could have run out the door when I looked out the window upon hearing the truck, and saw that they were picking up the recycling, not the trash. But I was in my pajamas still. Not that that has stopped me in the past from jumping out of my minivan and conducting traffic in front of my son’s elementary school when impatient drivers weren’t playing “fairsies” at the four-way stop. God, that bugs me, the way people whistling with two fingers in close range bugs me.
The white elephant on wheels wasn’t moving that quickly up the street. I could have run out there to flag down the guys in fluorescent vests who were hanging off the back. My pajamas could pass as sweat pants. Don’t judge me. That’s what cougars wear to bed when it’s cold out. But instead, I finished my coffee. Later, I said to myself, while imagining chasing down the recycling truck through the streets of Upper Wonderful. I’ll finish this coffee, put on some jeans and fill up the trunk with the bins. If I don’t track them down today, there’s always tomorrow a few blocks over. Don’t think I haven’t done this before.
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