I don’t know what it is about our family, but we seem to experience the most ironic, odd, or extreme circumstances. Whether it’s water gushing from the ceiling from a leak in the pipes above (on our third night in our new home), or taking out the ceiling only to have the leak mysteriously disappear for three weeks (while we went without our only shower), it’s always something. And it’s usually something strange. Yesterday I learned about our new neighborhood. It was trash day, and like every week before, I took out the trash. A can, a bag, and a few boxes full of 70-year-old wallpaper bits and broken up plaster. We’re redecorating. Bye layers of paint and wallpaper, bye chunks of plaster left on the ceiling, hello mess. So it’s trash day. I clean, bye mess, hello headache. Apparently one of the boxes (left over from our move) was labeled yard sale. Apparently that was a mistake. People stopped to ask what was in the boxes. Trash. What kind of trash? The kind I’m throwing away. Well can I have it? It’s trash. Well what’s in it? Wallpaper pieces and plaster from our ceiling. Really? Really. I’m thinking that was odd but at least they’re gone
They stole my trash!
I don’t know what it is about our family, but we seem to experience the most ironic, odd, or extreme circumstances. Whether it’s water gushing from the ceiling from a leak in the pipes above (on our third night in our new home), or taking out the ceiling only to have the leak mysteriously disappear for three weeks (while we went without our only shower), it’s always something. And it’s usually something strange. Yesterday I learned about our new neighborhood. It was trash day, and like every week before, I took out the trash. A can, a bag, and a few boxes full of 70-year-old wallpaper bits and broken up plaster. We’re redecorating. Bye layers of paint and wallpaper, bye chunks of plaster left on the ceiling, hello mess. So it’s trash day. I clean, bye mess, hello headache. Apparently one of the boxes (left over from our move) was labeled yard sale. Apparently that was a mistake. People stopped to ask what was in the boxes. Trash. What kind of trash? The kind I’m throwing away. Well can I have it? It’s trash. Well what’s in it? Wallpaper pieces and plaster from our ceiling. Really? Really. I’m thinking that was odd but at least they’re gone


Friday, May 2, 2003
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