Last week, Brad Pitt and I were “those” neighbors. You know, the ones who somehow managed to miss their trash day and then left the bags out on the curb. Waiting and hoping that somehow some magical trash man was going to show up on his day off and cart away the garbage on his own good will.
Oversleeping was to blame for the initial miss on Monday morning. But then we were filled with excitement when we realized it was a holiday (Columbus Day) and would be given a second chance to rid ourselves of the garbage. In order to ensure we wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, we set out the garbage on Monday night. Genius! The trash men could show up as early as they wanted the next morning and we would still achieve our goal of trash pickup.
But Tuesday night the trash bags were still sitting next to the curb. And Wednesday morning. And Wednesday afternoon. We had most definitely missed our chance and no magical trash man was going to save the day.
Wednesday night, Brad Pitt finally retrieved the trash bags and returned them to the garbage bin. But not before the rabid, wild animals in our neighborhood had their chance to pick through both bags and pull out what they wanted. And apparently the animals in our neighborhood have discriminating taste. They carefully plucked out all of the bones that were leftover from our Gates BBQ dinner and left everything else inside the bags.
Part of me wanted to collect all the bones and strategically bury them in a spot that would make sense for a nice garden, so if we ever sell our house the new owner would come across the bones and freak out thinking they found human remains. But the thought of touching all the gnawed on bones was too much for me, so I just left them.
All week I chased her around, squealing “Don’t eat that!!! Ew! Don’t eat that!” and for the most part she behaved. Until yesterday when she grabbed on to this big ol’ honker and wouldn’t let go. I had to pry it out of her mouth with my bare hands. EW!!!
Somehow all the other bones have disappeared from the yard, which is too bad because now that I have touched one bone, I might as well pick up the rest of them and carry out my plan to freak out the future owner of our home. I’ll have to remember to save bones the next time we order a slab of ribs and put my plan into action.