Take It or Leave It ... That is the Question!

When I bought my house it came with a big, green trash can on wheels that I could roll to the edge of the driveway on trash-pick-up day and then roll it away behind the house so no one could see it because the city doesn’t want anyone driving around and being offended by our trash cans. My house was built in 1996. I have to assume that the original trash can came with the house. When I bought the house in 2000, the previous owners must have had some kind of incident with the trash can because one of the handles was broken. The handles also act as the hinges for the lid on top. This handle had been duct taped back into place and although it would suffice, it was not what I would call a MacGyver solution.

These are the same people who left their curtains in the house when they moved out. I thought that was weird. Then I discovered that they had nailed the rods to the wall. Yes – nailed – to the wall – didn’t use the normal kind of screw-in hardware – big nails that would have made a huge hole in the sheet rock if they were yanked out. So considering that, I decided it was a good thing that they left their curtains behind. Besides, the ones in the living room actually went rather well with my furniture so I left the nailed rods in place.

Back to the trash can ... in the eight years I have lived at this house, the handle on the trash can has continued to be a source of aggravation. My husband and the son continue to try to re-attach it with inspired and creative ways. The last attachment was obtained by threading a coat hanger through the handle in hopes that it would keep the hinge in place. That was more inspired than duct tape, but still not very effective as we have continued to fight and wrestle with that handle every week when we have to roll the can down to the end of the driveway.

So this morning the son and I are eating breakfast and staring out the kitchen window to observe the fascinating progress of the City’s Environmental Engineers, who were standing on tiny metal platforms on the back of the trash truck and hanging onto handles to keep from falling off into the street as the truck rumbled along, coming up the street while they reclaimed the contents of everyone’s big, green trash cans on wheels. They got to my house. We watched their space-age technological procedure of leaning way far out (avoiding the waste of the precious time and energy it would take to get off the truck and step down to the street) and grabbing the can by the lip of the lid and yanking it up towards themselves. One engineer yanked it forward. His partnering engineer grabbed the can and flipped it over the rim of the back of the truck. We saw the precision with which they slammed the can against the rim of the stinky truck so as to knock out all the waste particles, and we then witnessed their OSHA inspired safety technique of one engineer tossing the empty can in the general direction of my driveway while the other engineer forgot to let go of the attached lid which quickly became un-attached.

The son and I erupted into laughter at the looks on their faces as they stared at the can on the ground and the lid hanging in the guy’s hand. My laughter soon dissolved into an aggravated snort as I watched one of the engineers descend from the truck, set the can upright, and slap the lid down on top of it before hopping back onto the truck and driving off to attack the can at the next house up the street.

My new mission for the day became obtaining a new trash can. I called the City Sanitation Department ...

“Is this the number I need to call if I want to request a new garbage can from the city?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is. Do you be need’n a new can, Ma’am?”

“Yes, after the garbage guy got finished with it this morning I do, indeed, need a new can. The lid has been torn off.”

“Aw, Ma’am, I am sorry about dat. Where do you live? Ok. And what is a phone number where I can be reach’n you? Ok. I’m gonna call the people who supply de cans and we’ll get dem to brung you a new one. Would dat be ok, Ma’am?”

“Yes. Thank you. That would be great! I wrote down the registration number that’s on the can if you need that.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. Dat ain’t no registration number. It’s on der for inventory porpoises (yes-she pronounced it like the fish) and don’t have nutten to do wit you. I don’t needs dat number.”

“Well, ok. Then I look forward to hearing back from you as to when they’ll be bringing the new can.”

“Ok, Ma’am. Good bye.”

A few words regarding the big white numbers printed on the side of the can ....about a month ago, our next door neighbors sold their house and moved away. They left a trash can stuffed full and did not leave it on the street. I planned to have the son roll it to the end of their driveway so it would be emptied. Then I had the grand notion to have him roll OUR can to the end of THEIR driveway and roll THEIR can to the end of OUR driveway and then I wouldn’t have to worry about the stupid coat-hanger-rigged handle on our can anymore. I mentioned this brilliant idea to my husband and smiled, thinking he would be so proud of my under-handed and devious plan to swap out our ratty can with the un-suspecting new neighbors who hadn’t moved in yet.

Instead of celebrating my ingenious plan, he burst my bubble by telling me that the big white numbers on the side of the can were registered to the address of the house where they were placed and that if something ever happened to the stolen can and they found out that it wasn’t the original can placed at our house, then we might get into trouble or have to pay a fine. Well, that did sound somewhat logical. Afterall, why would they stamp these big white numbers on the sides of all the cans? Well, now we know ... “...it’s jus’ for inventory porpoises...”

**Legal Disclaimer: I am not in any way giving anyone permission to swap their beaten and broken can with their unsuspecting neighbor. Nor will I accept responsibility for any criminal charges or fines resulting from such an act. In addition, I will not be responsible or involved in the consequences, fines, criminal incarceration, or bodily harm that may be inflicted between neighbors when it is discovered that a can has been swapped.**

Bless her heart, the lady at the Sanitation Department called me right back!

“Yes, Ma’am ... I was just speak’n to you about dat can? Well I called dem and de is gonna brung you a new one tomorrow morn’in. So please put de broken can outside for dem to pick up. Oh, and by de way, Ma’am, please make sure the can don’t have no trash in it.”

I told her ‘thank you’ and hung up, puzzled by the fact that the Sanitation Company – that exists for the very “porpoise” of picking up trash - doesn’t want to pick up my broken trash can if it has trash in it. What? They ARE in the trash business, right? That’s the service they offer, right? The very fact that my can is now broken and un-useable classifies it as “trash”, right? But they won’t pick up a broken trash can that has trash in it? Whatever ....

Well, they happen to be in luck because since the City Environmental Engineers visited me this morning, the can currently has no trash in it and I suppose I can refrain from putting something into it for one night. But it won’t be empty when they pick it up. What they will find inside it is the lid that was broken off of it.

Will they take it or leave it?????