Who You Callin' Trash?

Many of my loyal followers have been waiting with bated breath for more news on the Trash Battle of 2010.

Well, wait no longer my dear followers, all 9 of you...Oooo, wait, all 14 of you! Welcome aboard new comers.

So, trash day is Wednesday. Today is Saturday. So far...no trash. I'm almost afraid to exhale, scared that if I let my guard down, Heftyheftysicsac, the Greek god of refuse, will raise his ugly head and discipline my weakness.

Right now one of two things always happens when I leave my house:

1. I fear seeing more trash by my steps

2. I fear seeing the people at the offending address

So every time I leave the house, I have fear. In my defense, this is a totally normal reaction when living in a major metropolitan city. Though most people living in a neighborhood like mine fear getting shot or stabbed with a hypodermic needle.

The first fear is self explanatory. If trash is left by my house again that means the problem is not solved and I'll have to resort to posting nastier signage by my steps (and no one wants that).

The second fear is more complicated but just as valid. If the offending address and I see each other and they recognize me, that means they are the guilty parties and they know I retaliated. Their passive dumping may boil into an aggressive hatred and I may one day come home to find a broken window and missing cat (one of these things is bad).

If the offending address and I happen to see each other and they smile kindly and innocently, that means they are not the offending address and I have illegally dumped trash in front of an innocent person's house. Guilt may eat my insides until insanity sets in as a coping mechanism and I abandon trash day all together, letting the piles of garbage heap in my living room until it eats its way through the floor and the entire house caves in on itself.

Maybe to avoid all devastating circumstances, I should just go over to the house and introduce myself. What's the worst that could happen?