The Truth Is Out There...

How do you do your garbage? We do ours stinky, gooey and running over the can before ANYONE (ahem, me) will take it out. We like our garbage in bags that rip just enough to spill curlicues of dried cucumber peelings, eggshells and coffee grounds over the kitchen floor upon extraction from the can. We like bags that leak a bit from the bottom so that the whole can is infused with the delightful aroma of chicken packaging goop that sits for a few days marinating. Ah, there is nothing, nothing I tell you that can match that assault on a person’s sense of smell. We like to scrape moldy leftovers into the can and let them blossom into their full bouquet; just the delicate bloom of scent that lingers a bit too long in the air.

Since we’ve lived in our house, a yard dweller of the animal persuasion has made nightly forages to our gloriously smelly trash to take part in an epicurean smorgasbord and this particular animal without fail, knocks over all the cans, that I know are quadruple its own body weight. I blame the two sassy squirrels who live in the apple tree; they just have a guilty look about them in general. K thinks that it’s a raccoon, and as he scoops up the goopy, smelly garbage every morning, I’m sure he would skin whoever it was alive if he could catch them. The two of us invented a system of bungees and an old piece of wood to weight the cans down and secure them and it has been working well for the tipping over part, but the animal is still partaking in the feast as evidenced by the torn bags inside and the leftover scraps on the back porch. Yes, this animal can get the lids off the can. Don’t look at me; I’m just reporting the facts.

On Sunday night, Reag went out to put something in the recycling bin and came face to face with what may be the actual perpetrator, a very large skunk. When I asked him what he did, he nonchalantly replied, “I shut the door really fast.” Laters.