Garbage Day

After an exhausting erradication of the mint patch in my backyard and beheading of the aspen upstarts that shouldn't be in my groundcover, I pause. I wonder: How am I going to fit all this in my garbage can with the grass and the tree clippings? It just can't be done.
So, acting upon an idea from my mother, I stand and watch my across-the-street-neighbor's garbage be emptied. I wait for the garbage truck to go around the corner before I hurry over and drag the black can over to my withering mint/aspen pile. I smile casually at the mother and children out on a walk and hastily stuff my garbage into my neighbor's can. I put it out on the curb beside my own can.
Stealing? No, of course not. Dave has let me use his can for similar things. A large pile of man-eating rosebush branches. Grass that wont fit in my can.
Manipulating the system? Perhaps. But if the neighbor's want to look at my yard without wincing sacrifices are needed on every side. I have to take precious study time to prune my bushes. Dave lends me his can. The garbage lady has to empty two cans instead of one at my house. But my yard becomes less of an eye-sore so ultimately we all win.
Why does this matter? Because it pleases me. Which is what this blog is for.

Dear Creepy Dude

Who tried to follow me home.
I'm sure you're a nice guy. I'm sure all your ex girlfriends would say you're a nice guy.
I'm also sure they would say that you're not as religious as you say you are and it's really not the holy spirit you want to share.
I go with my instincts and they say to run, but not while you're looking.
Because you're a control freak. How can I know that?
Because you wouldn't believe that my number was my number until you heard my phone ring.
Why did I give you my number in the first place? Because I don't want to make you angry. I'd rather wait and get my mom to tell you to get lost when you call next.
As you can see I've delt with control freaks before. They're best fought off with long-range weapons. Like mothers.
Do I 'love everyone'? Um... how does one answer that? Sure, I love everyone.
But I'm not going to make out with you et cetera, et cetera, in the back of a movie theatre.
No I will not go on a date with you.
I am religious. Therefore I do not view the commandments as multiple choice.
No you may not find out where I live.
I've known you ten minutes. That may be sufficient for someone looking for sex in a crowded bar, but I am not that girl. You can tell from my distinct lack of visible cleavage. Also from my lack of bus-combing bedroom-eyes.
I'm not completely opposed to guys who are a little forward. I wish more guys had the guts to ask for my number. But you are not the kind of person I want to give it to.
I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings.
I'm not sorry that I wont sleep with you.