Wednesday, April 26, 2006


There is a house (garbage on Monday, recycling Wednesday) that Daniel, as a rule, does not linger by. He was accosted their once by a five year old girl in a pink bow. She demanded to know who the man in her mother’s bedroom was. Daniel panicked and fled, and now scurries past with only a nervous glance. There was little of interest anyway, the family confined themselves to small servings of wine.

On January twenty fifth, Daniel’s cursory examination revealed a sharp rise in the number and variety of alcohol bottles. He says that this new level was repeated two weeks later, and again after that.

This week, both garbage and recycling days marked a sharp change that demanded Daniel’s further attention, past experience not withstanding. The garbage had been reduced to almost nothing. Before, there had been a volume sufficient for three vigorous, not-overly waste conscious people. Now there seemed barely enough to sustain the life of one. The recycling consisted entirely of Wiser’s Black Label bottles and condiment jars.


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