It's the morning after the morning when the trash collectors were scheduled to retrieve, from carefully placed and considerately sealed curbside containers, all manner of organic refuse from the previous week's Independence Day celebrations. They're a day late. I'm OK with that, no problem, for I'm more than happy to live in a community where my trash is regularly whisked away with little effort on my part save for dragging and propping my loaded can at the end of my driveway each week.
Well, the trash truck just went down the street. Have you any idea what a block full of cans that have been incubating for more than 24 hours the leftover 4th-of-July remains of uneaten hot dogs at 90 degrees and high humidity smell like when their lids are popped off? There's no way these sanitation workers are being compensated sufficiently for their task. I'm hoping for a good wind gust.
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