In which strangers express an interest in our garbage.
Odd noises from the front yard woke me up last night, so I got up and peeked out the window.
A pickup truck was backed up to our driveway. A row of lights on the cab illuminated the bed, making it difficult to see around the truck, but I made out two female figures hurrying back and forth from the truck bed to the curb. I heard bottles and cans tinkling and I heard the girls whispering, but I couldn’t see their faces.
By that time Hubby was looking through the window, too. I asked him what he thought. Were the girls identity thieves? Were they dumping their trash? Should yell at them and tell them to leave?
“Just kids collecting recyclables for spending money,” he said, and went back to bed.
Oh.
I kept watching them anyway, just in case they decided to look for more spending money in our garage.
This morning I found trash all over the ground, stuff that fell out of the bins when the girls collected our glass bottles. When this happened last week I thought it was cats. Now I know better.
Next week I’m going to talk to those girls. They can take our recyclables, but not if I have to pick up after them.
UPDATE:
Before the trash truck came, I tossed a broken scooter into one of the cans, a scooter that Hubby wasn’t able to fix.
Approximately 15 seconds later a white truck zoomed into the cul-de-sac, grabbed the scooter, and screeched off.
???