About a month and a half ago, our trashcan was stolen. Or liberated. Or set free. Or had it's plastic ass raptured outta here somehow.
It's not unusual. The previous home-owner had done a pretty bad job of painting the house numbers on the can, but the numbers were there. Every few months, the can disappears for a week. I figure a neighbor mistakenly (or deliberately) snatches the wrong one from the alley, after the trash is collected. No big deal. It always comes back.
It always comes back, right?
Not so! After two weeks, we became worried that our tubby green plastic-rubber pal had been spirited away for good.
Not knowing if it would even work, I requested another through the DC Gov't website. That was on 11sept. I was given a projected "resolution date" of 12sept.
Wow, I thought, that's ambitious. Next day. Hmm.
Next day came, with no can delivered. Day after, no can. Admittedly, I don't trust online service-requests like this. Typically you enter data and click the FLUSH INTO OBLIVION button. So, no surprises here. Our neighbor had loaned us one of his extra cans, so we weren't exactly drowning in garbage. But it was looking like we'd have to blow some cash on a new one.
But then a magic cloud of government pixie-dust descended upon the District of Columbia. It was Friday, 19oct, maybe 6pm. Having hopped off the bus at Georgia Avenue, I walked up to the house and was faced with a beautiful thing. Manna from Fenty:
It was a virgin SUPERCAN, untainted by kitchen wastes or hefty-bags. It was beautiful: not yet rained upon, nor dented by cars, nor peed-upon by psychotic squirrels.
The SUPERCAN: DC's newly redesigned household trashcan, with attached lid to keep rats out, and all that trashy goodness in... For one bright moment, my faith in local government had been restored.
It was, and I only exaggerate slightly here, our happiest day ever. Marian and I held hands and giggled in the street as rose-petals fell from the skies... I mean, hell, once in a while the system works. Even if it was a few weeks after that unrealistic "resolution date."
Then a gratuitous photo-shoot of the new can ensued. I can imagine our neighbors watching this, terrified, through closed blinds...what in satan's name is that man doing??!?!
No matter. We shall stencil the living crap outta this can, and we shall embrace the civic majesty of TRASH DAY. Oh yes.