racing the garbage truck

I have this fear that someone will steal our garbage can. I actually read the refuse newsletter thing that the city sent me when we moved in, and that damn thing made me fret about the safety of my can. This little paranoia causes great problems every Wednesday morning. We’re not used to being in charge of our trash, so when the alarm goes off on Wednesdays, Matt makes a mad dash to get the garbage out of the garage. If I could just come to terms with my issues, we could leave it outside all the time, but then raccoons could get at it. See how paranoid I am? It’s a wonder I can get out of bed. Well, this morning, Matt went to work early and forgot about the garbage, so as I was calmly making my egg, it dawned on me. You know that commercial when the guy runs out to the curb with his garbage can only to see the truck pulling away? That was almost me. I threw on a pair of shoes and ran outside jacket-free with my wet hair bouncing wildly behind me and the yippy neighbor dog going berserk. I snuck a glimpse into my neighbors can—it was still full. We were safe yet again.