Dumpster Diving at a Questionably Homosexual Man's Home

So, as you know, Trixie and I are moving.

Last evening, we cleaned out the ENORMOUS shed under our deck. As a result, a lot was dragged to the curb, including:

- A lawnmower
- Three lawnchairs
- A wrought iron table (sans the glass top)
- A 96 gallon trash can which contained, among other things, a plastic golf ball, at least eight inches in circumfrence, which contained a decanter

So, this morning, as usual, it's about 5:25 a.m., and I'm walking Baron.

A truck pulls alongside me and I feel it slow, then come to a stop. I'm maybe 100 yds from my house.

Scary Truck Man: Hey! That 'cho house on tha corner?

Me: Yes.

Scary Truck Man: That lawn mower work?

Me: Yes.

Sensing a pattern here?

Scary Truck Man: Oh. I got a frien' that works on 'em. Mind if I take it?

Me: Well, I did put it in the trash.

Scary Truck Man: Did you sell your house yet? I seen that "under contract" sign. My frien's lookin fo a house, I figgerd you's got a nice one. Is it for sale?

Me: We sold it in six hours.

Scary Truck Man: You movin' to one a them condos?

Me: No. I'm moving to a new home three times the size of this one.

I then continue on my walk, and it suddenly occurs to me.

"You movin' to one a them condos?"

Does he think I'm a single gay man? After all, I dress well and walk a manicured schnauzer every morning.

So, as I contemplate this throughout my fifteen minute walk, I make my way back to my street and notice the lawnmower is gone. Also, I notice another truck parked in front of my mailbox and a woman bent over looking in my trash can. I can see she's already liberated the lawnchairs, and she holds in her hand the "Golfing-The 19th Hole" decanter. She's visibly puzzled as she tries to open it, and at that point, I'm still reeling from the shock of someone rooting through my garbage.

I do my best to embarass her by saying "It's a decanter." To which a man in the truck queries "Wat's a dee canter?"

She shushes him by saying she'll tell him later and they make a hurried exit.

Then, dressed in my finest, me and my little dog make our way back into the house to prepare for another installment of the daily grind.

FORE!