Friday, April 30, 2010

The Trashman Gives, and the Trashman Taketh Away

Yesterday morning I put out my trash can for my weekly pick-up (which I am quite proud of, since I often forget, relegating Heather to the task, which does not score bonus points in the good-husband category).  Imagine my surprise when I came home and Heather asked where the trash can was.  Not as in "the trash can isn't in the garage, so where is it?" but as in "the trash can is nowhere to be found, so where is it?"  I did a cursory search of the cul-de-sac, and, prior to canvassing the neighborhood posting notices on telephone poles (Missing: trashcan.  Have you seen me?  I'm big, blue, and somewhat smelly.  I'm not micorchipped but belong to a good home, where I get walked to the curb once a week.  If you know where I am please call this number) I decided to assume no one would really steal a trash receptacle and called the waste management company. 

It seems the trashman accidentally dropped my can in the back of the truck, so they have to bring me a new one today. Apparently it is a common enough occurrence that the guy on the phone said "either your can had a defect, such as a broken wheel, or the trashman dropped it in the truck".  Once he entered my address he confirmed it was the latter. I don't know if it's a safety violation to climb into the dumpster to retrieve the can, or if they simply don't want to return your can with someone's diaper stuck to the side, but I appreciate that I'm getting a clean can today.   

I'm left wondering if the trashman is punished for his accidental mishandling of my can?  Hopefully not.  Do they get the can out and re-use it or is it left to be crushed with the rest of the garbage?  If so, how many trash cans have met this fate?  Some of life's questions that I will never have answers to.  I'm just glad it didn't feel so neglected as to have run away from home, and wasn't can-napped by some creepy dude down the street.  I'll never take my trash can for granted again.