
I’m not special.
May 4th, 2005AHA!!!
I’ve been sitting in my kitchen for the last hour, near the front window. I heard a suspicious sound a minute ago and peeked through the closed shades to SEE THE TRASH CAN BANDIT moving my can. He had a different hat on today, a big fancy straw one. And sunglasses. Because, you know, he’s cool.
So I paused for a moment, then without really thinking I tiptoed out the front door to follow him. Mind you, I’m not wearing any shoes, I’m wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt I’ve been gardening in, no bra, and my hair is unwashed and crazy. In other words, I’m a total disaster, and would never go out in public like this.
But I had to.
Of course, I was immediately busted by the mailman who was across the street, and waved to me.
I headed stealthily to the left out my front door, looked down the street, and there was no sign of him.
Suddenly, I heard the rumbling of another trash can being moved!
And then it hit me. He’s not walking down my street at all.
My house is on a corner, but the cross street doesn’t line up directly on both sides of my street. Across the street it’s scooted over about the length of one house, mine.
I realized he’s coming down the street across from my house, cutting over, and then going down the street on the side of my house. It just happens that my house is the only one on my street on his “route”
So I tiptoed across my (wet) front lawn, still barefoot, ducked behind the edge of my corner fence, and peeked around the side. I can’t even begin to imagine what the mailman thought of the whole thing. But there was the bandit, at the house behind mine, moving their can! And then he went across the street and moved the can at THAT house!
So the mystery is solved. I’m not special at all. He does it for everyone on his route.
Although it’s still odd.




