Last weekend I went crazy and cleaned and organized the garage while the kids were down for a nap. My husband was snow camping and I got a ton accomplished.
What resulted was several bags for Goodwill, which I decided to take to the Salvation Army stop instead. I began to haul the stuff to the attendant guy only to see a silent head shake and hand gesture that said, "No, we don't want that." It was three green rubbermaid storage stackers that I'd used in my classroom. So I shrugged and put them back in the car, muttering under my breath. Next, I tried with a box of bedding and some artwork in cheap IKEA frames which he accepted sullenly as though it was subpar donation material. I am never going there again. Goodwill is never that snobby about donations. They take it all. Bless you Goodwill!
Well, the rubbermaid stackers made it back home and were added to the pile of TRASH that sat next to our already-full garbage can. But here's the urksome part. Around about nine on "Put- out-your-trash-night" I was tucking in the Jooge and I heard some scuffling outside. It occured to me that it was probably our neighbor rustling around in our garbage half racoon/half troll that he is. I had seen him sniffing around when my old iron bed sat out by the trash. Sure enough, there he was again! This time, he picked through the small pile and then hobbled home. GRRRRRRRRR! What kind of person feels the entitlement to do that, especially in the days when other freaks are out and about scouting garbage for the purpose of stealing important documents for ID theft? DUDE! KEEP OUT OF OUR GARBAGE!
The bottom line? You're damned if you do and damned if you don't when it comes to my refuse.