It would appear that someone has stolen my garbage can. A garbage can. Really?

Okay, then, I guess if you needed a can that bad then it’s all yours. Apparently, criminal types aren’t big into recycling, because they left both of those containers behind. They could have done me the courtesy of taking the trash that was in the can with them, but instead they took that out and put it in my recycling bin. I guess they didn’t read the brochure from the D.M.A.S.W.A. about separating your recyclables.

What makes one steal a garbage can? Where does it fall in the greater hierarchy of needs? Once your belly is full, do you turn next to clothing or a TV, or does one go straight for a garbage can? I must give them some credit: They did take a pretty nice can. I suppose there’s some solace in knowing that I apparently had the most attractive garbage can on my whole block. Lucky me. It was an oversized job, like a 60-gallon or something. I even had to go City Hall and get a special sticker on it, for which I had to pay extra in order for the garbage men to accept it as an approved receptacle.

But the joke’s on you, you thieving thief. The sticker was on the lid, and in your haste, you forgot to take the lid. So if the trash guys follow the letter of the law, you won’t be allowed to use the can. HA! Take that, pilferer. This is not my first interesting encounter with individuals relating to my garbage. Anyone who has even had a big dumpster delivered to your home for remodeling has probably had experiences like mine. After a couple of days, you start to notice large items finding their way into your dumpster that were not there before. I even watched one man as he pulled up in his truck and carefully peered at my house before he quickly tossed his orange recliner into my dumpster. I saw you clear as day, sir, and I’ve seen you around since. Someday, I shall embarrass you in public about the event when it is most inopportune for you.

Even stranger, late that night, say 2 a.m. as I was still up working, I watched another man climb into the dumpster to retrieve that recliner... and a rug and an old vacuum. That I don’t mind. It saves me room in the dumpster. Although I also discovered that when there is a dumpster in your driveway, people assume that all items in your driveway must be intended for the trash. Thus the 15-speed Ross mountain bike I had taken out back so I could take it to Sr. Inez at St. Mark’s and see if a kid would want it ... well, it disappeared. But we’ll call that my fault for leaning it up against the dumpster. Hopefully it’s getting a degenerate who lost his license back and forth to work well. I hope I see it someday, that’d be funny.

Back to the case of the purloined garbage can. Now, I did consider that with all the wind, the can could have blown away. but between the garbage being placed in a different container and a thorough search of the ‘hood, I’m fairly confident that it was the work of ne’er-dowells. I feel so violated. Our editor Tim had some tweakers steal his Xbox and, most painfully, his stash of frozen pizzas last year. What has our beautiful safe town come to? I’ve lived in downtown Dubuque for years. Until I recently got a more safety-conscious co-habitator, I hadn’t locked my doors in five years, not even when I left town. But I guess times are changing. But I won’t hold a grudge any longer, you sticky-fingered ignoramus. I shall leave the lid out back for you, should you choose to come back for it. You clearly need it worse than I. By the way, there’s a nice snow shovel up under the deck and I think my hose is still outside, so come on back anytime. I will put you lovingly on the same level as all the people who assume that because it’s legal to smoke, it’s also okay to simply drop your cigarette butts anywhere you damn well please. I’ll send an intern over soon to pee on your front door. I figure that’s fair. Or maybe I could just take your garbage can, since you don’t seem to find it useful.