Garbage day is Tuesday morning. I've never been a fan (to say the least). I'm actually hoping to retire that chore after moving in with PD... Anyway, I digress.
I took out the garbage last night and dare I say, really enjoyed it. I carried the smelly garbage bags down our dark and creaky staircase to the garage, and dropped them in the black plastic bin (our has white graffiti on it) with my arm stretched out and my head turned far away as possible while holding my breath.
As I rolled the bins out the garage and up the alley to the sidewalk, I noticed the full-ish looking moon and a happy group chatting as they were leaving the Italian restaurant across the alley from me. I paused and took it all in, right next to the smelly trash bins, and felt really lucky.
I felt really lucky to be able to take out the trash in such a charming little spot. As I headed back towards the open garage door, I almost decided that it wasn't that bad. But came to my senses quickly and ran back in to scrub my hands with soap. It was a one-time slip. Taking out the garbage is still gross.
Soak it in, girl! You were lucky to live in such an awesome place. And oh, the alley. So much dirty humor from that place. :)
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