Friday, October 14, 2005

He Who Steals My Trash, Steals Garbage

Someone stole my trash. Actually, someone stole my trash can, and the trash that was in it.

I'm serious. I put out the trash yesterday for pickup and today it's gone, can and all. And it wasn't the garbage men who took it - they were outside when the Lovely Bride came out (the recyling bin was also overturned, but still there).

And I'll be frank, it's weirding me out just a little. I mean, who would take it? Identity thieves? (And LEAVE the recycling, which would be mostly PAPER right beside it?) The Government? (Why not take the garbage and leave the can to avoid suspicion?) Fanciers of stylish metal garbage cans? (Then why not wait for the garbage guys to pass by and THEN take it?). Pranksters? A private investigator for a major corporation looking to hire me? Investigators for a telemarketer I yelled at? Martians?

Yeah, nothing really makes a whole bunch of sense, and it leaves me with this weird, unsettled feeling.

The Thieves/Investigators/Government Agents/Martians got away with a steel garbage can, mostly loaded down with kitchen waste and cat poop. We empty the litters into a bag in a laundry pail, and from there into the garbage can. I can't think of anything of value we have thrown away recently, or any information that would be valuable enough to justify the late-night theft of my garbage (and yeah, we also shred all personal documents before tossing them in the recycling, too).

It's weird, I tell you. Very, very weird. And of course, I would want the can back. Minus, of course, the cat poop. You can keep that. No, it's no trouble at all.

More later,