Hereís another thing about Monday. Monday is trash pickup day. Not on my street, but on the streets I canít avoid in order to escape from my street. And itís not just a garbage truck, but a recycle truck and a yard waste truck as well. There is hardly a Monday when I donít have to sit and thrum my fingers on the steering while as I wait for a big truck to make a nine-point Y-turn on a narrow street, or to lumber around in several directions trying to back into a driveway.
Obviously, Iím all in favor of trash being picked up on a regular basis, and the reuse of whatever can be reused (as well as the mulching of what can be mulched). It makes a lot of sense in a world with too much stuff in it already. But didnít garbage trucks use to run their routes early in the morning, even before the milkman got up? Since when do they clog up the neighborhood at noon? And on a Monday, at that.
Of course, Iím not complaining, because I never complain. (Cough.) Itís just one more thing I have to deal with on your typical Monday, a day I would always choose to stay home and hibernate if I had that option. It just always seems like asking for trouble to venture out on a Monday.