It’s garbage and recycle day so the morning started very early.
I first heard someone pushing a grocery cart around two a.m., rifling through the recycle bins for bottles and cans.
It was a surreptitious sound, he was slow and careful–probably because he didn’t want to tip off the regular guy who rumbles through with his noisy cart around 4 a.m. I have a vision of these guys with grocery carts sleeping under bushes in the area although I know they probably flop at the homeless shelter.
The early bird really gets the worm around here.
Last winter there was a fellow rambling around in an ancient station wagon. It was loaded with bottles and cans. It looked like he had traversed the state or hit a mother lode. He had so much that the pile was encroaching into the driver’s area–pushing against the back of his head! His burnt-out cigar was practically mashed against the windshield.
I asked my husband, the engineer, how much money a station wagon full of bottles and cans would bring? He thought for a minute and said, “Twenty bucks”
That’s not even enough for a full tank of gas.