The Bermuda Triangle of garbageBy
I’ve freely indulged myself in remarking on garbage which is left where it happened to fall. Or drift. Or be blown. Or put.
The computer terminal was just one item. Bags and bags of rubble and assorted refuse of every sort are others.
The other morning, a TV joined the throng.
Same place as the terminal.
Same stupid time (I saw it Sunday morning — but maybe it came to rest on Saturday night.) But what difference does it make? It’s out of somebody’s house now, and that’s all that matters.
Did you know there’s a number you can call, and the trash-collectors will come pick up any item measuring up to 3 cubic feet for free?
But I admit that calling a number is much more burdensome than hauling it outside under cover of darkness and leaving it there. It’s certainly less entertaining.
There must be something about this corner that literally drags people and their garbage to it and compels them to leave it there, even against their will. Flee from this baneful point! Mark it on your maps and nautical charts: 45 degrees 25 minutes 57.306 seconds latitude, 12 degrees 21 minutes 23.457 seconds longitude!
Does my Mystic Force theory sound crazy? So does somebody deciding to do this, and going home feeling fine.
I’m watching for what appliance could be next. A hydraulic olive-oil press? An incubator? A cyclotron?
Heigh-ho, as they don’t say in Venetian.
Bonus: The orphan battery, the Flying Dutchman of batteries, rejected, abandoned, and doomed to sit on the street for all eternity. (That’s longer than just some eternity.) Everybody must know it’s there by now, and everybody ignores it, even the garbage collectors, for obvious reasons.
The only recognition it receives is to be shifted from time to time, by the all-powerful occult hand, which belongs to nobody. It goes farther down the side street, then it’s put out on the main street by the corner, where everybody can see it. Then it goes back down the side street.
Before long, I’m going to make it my mascot. Give it a little sweater and hat in my team colors. And pompoms. Then I’ll give it a name, but I haven’t decided what yet. I’m not even sure if it’s a girl or a boy.