I may have overreacted in that last entry. You know, the one where I swear vengeance on our neighbors for allegedly stealing our garbage can. (again.)
"Allegedly" is the key word in that sentence.
This morning found us in our normal routine: I was flipping pancakes, Brian was getting ready for work, and Scotty was playing with his bop-bops. When Brian came down, he asked me if I had checked the neighbors' curb for any sign of our can. I had been thinking about the great garbage can heist all weekend (I even spied on them last night when the garage door was open, trying to get a look inside for any sign of our can) but this morning, the pancakes had taken up all of my mental ability and I had completely forgotten it was Monday, i.e. Garbage Day.
Needless to say, at Brian's prompting, we both ran to the window. (Scotty jogged behind us, wondering what the heck his parents were up to now.) And...no can. The neighbor's cans were lined up neatly - all two, not three - and both had lids.
Brian and I stared out the window for a long time.
Brian: They don't have our can.
Me: We don't know that for sure. It might be in the garage. They may have taken it hostage.
Brian: [sighs heavily]
With that, he headed to work and I set about not burning the pancakes. Imagine my surprise when about 10 minutes later, I hear a knock at the garage door -- the door that leads to the house from the garage. I thought I had shut the garage door?
It was Brian, toting our can. You know, the can with our address on. The can that I've been fixated on for the past five days. And as some of you may have noticed, as he was so quick to comment in my last entry, our garbage can was not tied up in the neighbor's garage. Nor were we going to start receiving ransom notes from our garbage can's kipnappers.
Nope. The damn can really did blow away. It was all the way down the street, past the yellow pole things, and in a different subdivision. Brian happen to catch sight of it as he was driving out of the neighborhood. The poor little can spent the last five days exposed to the elements, laying on its side, all alone.
As he stood in the garage and pointed out the retrieved can, he started jogging back to where he was parked. "This better be going in the blog!" he shouted as he ran.
So to my neighbors: my apologies. Sorry for calling you thieves. (I am pleased I got a chance to use some good Charlie Sheen quotes, though.) Can I make you some muffins to make up for this horribly awkward neighborly faux pas?
And in an effort to distract the rest of you from my glaring mistake, here are some cute pictures of Scotty from this weekend. Enjoy!