Wednesday.
Trash day.
Trash truck comes.
Dumps trash.
Spills fluorescent light bulbs from truck onto street.
Drives away.
Neighbor Flanders calls.
"Broken fluorescent light bulbs in front of house."
I look.
She's right.
Call trash people.
"We'll send truck"
Good. Bye.
Wednesday evening.
Broken fluorescent light bulbs still in front of house.
Autistic neighbor boy who likes to eat things from street riding bike.
Stops by pile of broken fluorescent light bulbs.
"Please don't eat broken fluorescent light bulbs."
He doesn't.
I sweep into neat pile.
Thursday morning.
Neat pile of broken fluorescent light bulb shrapnel still in front of house.
I call trash people.
"We'll send truck".
I won't hold breath.
Friday.
Pile of broken fluorescent light bulb shrapnel still in front of house.
I sweep.
I dump into dumpster.
I sweep some more.
I dump into dumpster some more.
I sweep some more.
I dump into dumpster some more.
Friday afternoon.
No more broken fluorescent light bulb shrapnel in front of house.
It's like a bad song.
.
4 comments:
I have to agree ... it does sound like a bad song. Good thing it never got wrote!
Almost like 99 bottles of beer on the wall...but worse (if there is such a thing).
And the truck? It just never came? Figures.
I'm not like that. If they say, "we send truck" I say, "When?" After time comes and goes, I call back. Very annoying to office lady = stuff gets done.
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