Simple Pleasures, #19
Ahhh. Trash-be-gone. It’s Thursday, the day that the heroic men (I’m gonna go ahead and be sexist here because I have never seen a trash woman) come and pick up our garbage. I love them. It’s 21 degrees outside and they still come and do us that amazing favor. I hope they get paid a whole heck of a lot. My last trip to New York schooled me in the incredible phenomenon known as… privately-owned trash trucks. And they. Are. Fancy. I was impressed! Neon lights flanking the undersides of their shiny truck bodies- which were emblazoned with such fantastic scenes of patriotism as seen nowhere else. I’m talking flags and eagles and twin towers with cursive “We Will Never Forget” scripted all over the show. I mean, wow. Our trucks around these parts might be a whole lot less flashy, but that doesn’t mean I’m not just as appreciative of their services. I love you, trash men. I love you. You work hard, and I cannot express my gratitude enough! You don’t even need shiny rims and exciting paint jobs to impress me! Next time you see your trash dudes coming down the street, give ‘em a friendly wave. You know you love them, too!
