I was sitting at my computer this morning, taking a test for school and thinking about what the subject for my first blog should be. As my mind whirred along, possible subjects like "Hate at First Sight" and "Maybe You Would Have a Good Job if You Didn't Have Lips Tattooed on Your Neck" rolled around in my head.
However, I will save these riveting topics for later posts because as I was sitting at my desk, the doorbell rang. The doorbell ringing at my house is a signal for me to become irritated. I'm like Pavlov's dogs with that thing. 99% of the time when someone rings my doorbell it's a solicitor, and I don't like my day being interrupted with someone trying to sell me crap. So, the doorbell rings and my irritation spikes as I walk the five feet from my desk to the door. I peer out the peephole and sigh, but open the door anyway because the man on my front porch appears non-threatening. I open the door about a foot and block the opening with my body so my ferocious attack dogs don't escape and rip this man to shreds. (In all reality my dogs would only attack with slobber.) The man smiles at me and says "Oh you've got two dogs in there!" I look down dumbly at the two little mongrels yipping away behind my legs. I mumble something intelligent like "Uh, yeah" and then continue to stare at him with a dull, uninterested look. He stares at me for a moment, seemingly unsure why I'm not engaging him in polite conversation. Then he smiles again and says "I'm from the Home Owners Association and you're trash can is still out." I can only guess that I had a completely blank look on my face as I processed this. The thought process went something like this:
1. My neighborhood has a Home Owners Association?
2. Do I pay for that?
3. When is trash day?
4. What day of the week is today?
5. Where is my trash can, because I don't see it in the street?
And finally my thoughts ended on this very intelligent conclusion....
6. I don't care.
So I say (in another extremely intelligent and well constructed sentence) "Oh, it is? Uh, I guess I will get it."
He narrows his beady little eyes at me and says "You can't leave it out again, this is, well, (cough cough) your second violation."
Somehow I still can't bring myself to care or even argue and I have much more important things to do than argue with this angry little man about my trash can being out on the curb for too long. It hardly even registers in my mind because frankly, this is a stupid issue.
My dull look seems to be the only response he needs and he shoves a paper at me. I take it and say "Ok." Than I shut the door and walk the 5 feet back to my desk, getting irritated as I walk. I started thinking of all these clever things I should have said, things that would seem polite yet sting. I then decide to leave my trash can out as long as possible and see what happens.
I open the blinds by my desk to see exactly where my errant, trouble making trash can is located. It's nowhere to be found. The little man can't possibly have taken it, right?
I glance down at the paper he handed me titled 'Courtesy Notice and Reminder.' It says my trash can can not be stored on the side of my house. So....my trash can isn't even in the street or blocking parking and the little man really felt the need to interrupt my day, give me a courtesy notice and narrow his beady eyes at me?
As I was gleefully typing this ridiculous and bemoaning blog, from my still open window I watched the little man pull up in front of my house in his tiny, bright red SUV. He sat and stared at the house, and I'm assuming he was staring at the still errant trash can. I saw him write something down, look up, write something else, and drive away. I giggled and continued to type.
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