Respect the Can, Man

It's the little things that do you in.  Sure, aliens could land in my neighborhood like they landed in Tom Cruise's neighborhood in War of the Worlds.  Sure.  And, who knows,  maybe I would find myself as resourceful as old Tom's character in getting out of Dodge and surviving the attack.  Maybe.

That's not a little thing.  That's not having to buy yet another garbage can.

I have lived at my current address almost 8 years and I'm on my 3rd or 4th garbage can.  To some people that may be no big deal, but I really don't see why a freakin' garbage can should wear out, or more exactly, be destroyed.  It's a GARBAGE CAN.  It's plastic or metal, you stuff bags of garbage in it, you haul it to the street once a week, and someone empties the contents into a garbage truck.  So why have I come home to garbage can debris scattered in my yard, driveway, and the street?

The first can was inherited and it didn't have a lid - which just won't work.  Not only does it rain into the can (I don't have a garage or outdoor covered storage place, don't get me started on that...) but some of the lovely critters that inhabit my island climb and tear and scatter.  Critters like cats (and you know who you are), armadillos, possums, dogs.  And please remember this is Florida where it does get quite hot and humid in the summer.  The inside of those garbage bags are petri dishes and one small hole or tear and the smell, o heavens, the SMELL.

So I bought a Rubbermaid $30 can with a lid and wheels.  The wheels because I'm not carrying pounds of garbage to the curb and it's noisy and embarrassing to drag it down the driveway.  Within days the handle had been broken.  Really?  Within weeks the lid had been tossed into the street and run over several times by friendly neighbors.  Within months one of the wheels had disappeared.  So I spent the next year or two pounding the ill-fitting lid on it and dragging it up & down the driveway.

Next I bought a cheapo $15 can (with lid & wheels) at K-Mart.  Awesome.  $15!  They broke the handle the first time they picked up the trash.  I "fixed" it with duct tape.  That lasted for many months.  That must have irritated them because one day I came home to find the axle and wheels sitting next to the can.  REALLY?!  And I could NOT get the axle reattached to the can.  So I spent the next year dragging the can back and forth on the driveway.

Last week, after intense internet research and reading of customer reviews, I found my can.  No matter that it was $70.  No matter that it was 40 miles away.  I would get that can.  I enlisted my daughter's help (she has a huge trunk in her car) and we drove to the Big Box Store in Palm Coast that had my can.  Well, they didn't have the 30 gallon can I wanted, but for the same $70 they had a 60 gallon can by the same manufacturer.  Bought it.  Didn't fit in the trunk.  With rope and additional string from the store we got a piece of it in the trunk and secured it all around.  Drove home with the wind whistling through the lid.

Last night I proudly rolled my trash can to the street and parked it.  I threw down my challenge.  And when I returned home from work today, my can was sitting neatly on the grass next to my mailbox.  Undamaged. Granted, they left the lid open (it's attached).   A message, I assume.  Fine.  My can and I are up to the challenge.

10 Positive Effects of this Freakin' Cold Weather and Rain

1.  I had fun shopping for rain boots with my granddaughter.  I bought her bright yellow boots with a picture of a monkey on them.  I purchased pink ones (monkeyless) for myself.  Of course, we had to borrow scissors from the cashier to cut off the tags and strings, so we could both put on our boots (YOU TOO, GRENAH!) right there in front of God and everybody at Target.  Then, out in the freezing cold again, Kinsey spies a nice puddle and jumps in.  Yes, our feet stay dry.  Can't say that for my pants.
2.  Another cold Saturday is a good excuse to wear my Christmas snowflake earrings.  Oh, no.  I packed away all my Christmas stuff already.  Of course I did.  It's February in Florida.  Why would I keep out snowflake earrings?  duh!
3.  The local vegetation is getting watered.  Well, what's left of it.  So much has been killed off by the freezing cold temperatures that NE Florida is going to look like Death Valley this summer.
4.  Snowbirds are here and business is good.  But, even our snowbirds are getting cranky.  After all, they travel all the way here from Michigan and Ohio and Canada to get away from bad weather.   Saying a bright "Good morning!" in the library or Publix parking lot to someone with out of state plates can get you run over.
5.  Isn't it wonderful to spread joy and laughter?  That's what happened today when I asked various salespeople if they had any gloves left.  They laughed and laughed.  So glad I could brighten their day.
5.  The local wildlife which enjoys terrorizing me has not been spotted in a while - no tree frogs, no armadillos, no snakes.  No, they are all safe and warm in their burrows having lots of sex so they can have millions of babies when spring does arrive.

There are no more positive effects.  It's either cold and wet...or cold and sunny.  It sucks.
49 out of 50 states had snow yesterday.   Stupid Hawaii.

Wild Kingdom

I was NOT going to post about this.  Not again.  But then...2 events in less than 12 hours?

So last night I take the *FLB out for his evening peepee.  I didn't even slip on my shoes, just strolled outside in my socks.  Didn't even turn on the outside light; my neighbor's outside light was on and light shined through my storm door glass.  I have to admit I felt a little nervous stepping in some shadowy places.  All the recent heebie-jeebie blogging has kept me in a rather agitated state - twitching now and then, feeling "things" in my hair, brushing my shoulder (what was that?).  I decided to quit being a baby and just take the damn dog out and not think about critters.

After his initial marking, the *FLB insisted on walking past the edge of light and to the line of grass along our fence.   I walked gingerly - looking carefully where I stepped and feeling foolish about it.  He dragged me all the way there, then stood on the pavement and stuck his nose in the grass.  That was going to accomplish nothing.  I "encouraged" him to step into the grass but he ignored me.  I became impatient and pulled him back to the patio telling him out loud, "No way, mister, am I standing in the dark so you can sniff the grass while standing on the pavement."  We walked back to my patio, I opened my back door, hustled Harley inside, and something skittered across my laundry room floor.

"Lizard!" I squealed.

Harley was skittering across the floor after the lizard-thing and I couldn't see around him to see what he was chasing.  I wasn't too concerned; I've had lizards (those little gecko lizards) get in the house before.  Harley always hunts them down and catches them.  It's his own life insurance policy.  And it fits with the 11th Commandment:

THOU SHALT NOT COME INTO MY HOUSE IF THOU IS A BUG OR SMALL CRITTER.  THOU SHALT LIVE OUTSIDE WHERE THOU BELONGEST AND WILL BE LEFT ALONEST.  IN MY HOUSE THOU ART FAIR GAME AND WILL BE HUNTED AND KILLED.

 So I encouraged Harley, "Get the lizard!", but then I saw it.  It was a small brown tree frog.

SCARY MUSIC PLAYS....

 I pulled Harley away; thank goodness he was still leashed.  The frog looked unharmed and I really wanted him back outside.  I don't like how they jump and I don't like their little sucker feet.  Tree frogs don't hop like toads  Toads hop and move a few inches here or there.  Tree frogs JUMP 4 or 5 FEET in the air.

One time a tree frog jumped through our front door - well not THROUGH the front door - but my brother opened the door and the tree frog jumped through the open front door - and the entire family (except for my father who was watching TV in his recliner - erupted in shouting and screaming as the tree frog jumped down the hallway and around the dining room.  The tree frog jumped from the floor onto my dad's HEAD and then hopped onto the living room wall with 4 kids and a beagle chasing him.  We actually chased that frog back out the front door before my dad even realized what happened.

So...back to last night....I stepped over the frog and tried to shoo him out the back door but he jumped up on the door, then jumped back into the room.  I screeched like a banshee - I thought the little sucker was going to jump on ME.  He jumped onto the wall behind the door.  He was hanging on the extra-long leash that hangs behind the door and I made one more attempt to get him out by removing the leash with him on it.  He jumped again.

That must be when I peed my pants.

I was fed up and decided he had broken the 11th commandment.  I unleashed Harley and said, "There he is, you can have him."  And that *FLB looked all over the wall and couldn't see him!  I had to practically take his face and point it at the frog!  What's up with that?  He can see a cat 300 yards down the street!

So the *FLB jumped up and grabbed the frog off the wall, but then he dropped it on the floor and it started hopping all around the room again.  I screamed some more, but this time I added some moon-dancing and ultra-studio-54-twitch moves, too.  Harley grabbed the frog again and finally took him into the kitchen to "play" with him.

Now don't get all "the poor frog" on me.  I did the best I could.  If his little sucker-feet had touched me I wouldn't be here blogging to you today.  I did feel bad because Harley played with him a LONG time.  A really LONG time.  I finally couldn't listen to him anymore and went to bed.  I even felt guilty.

This morning I looked for the ... remains...but Harley was guarding it.  I said a quick prayer that the little frog was dead and hadn't suffered too much.  No, I didn't really, but it sounds nice to say.   I knew I'd find him in the afternoon and give him a proper burial - wrapped in a thick wad of paper towels and scrunched into the trash can.

I took Harley for his morning walk. 

We were returning from our walk and came around the corner of our building when Harley smelled or spotted something.  He was acting aggressive so my first guess was a cat.  It's DARK when we take our walk and I carry a flashlight.  I haven't forgotten that a green-and-brown snake lives under my septic-bucket.  And I don't want to step on anything living or dead.  So I pointed my flashlight where Harley was straining to go.  I saw something....gray.......an armadillo.  eewww.  He standing over by the septic-bucket-snake-house.  Harley went ballistic - barking and pulling and twisting on the end of his leash.  The armadillo looked at us for a couple seconds (another big eewww) then hurried up the septic tank hill and into the brush. 

Kind of explains all the little holes in the yard and the lack of slugs this summer.  Maybe I'll just put a fence around the property and sell tickets. 

*FLB = freakin' little bastard