I am no Gladys Kravitz

Last week, I confessed to being a neighborhood nosy pants.  I told you about my kitty-corner-across-the-street neighbors, Dave and Amy, who's (alleged) marital spat led to some (alleged) difficulty with their recycling.  (Allegedly.)    Well, guess what?  Last Sunday, Dave and Amy had a baby.  Not an alleged baby.  A real honest to goodness baby.  I didn't even know Amy was pregnant!  Hmm.  How nosy can I be?

I went over with a lasagna and an "It's a Boy" balloon.  Dave and Amy and baby Ethan are all doing fine.  Only my reputation is bruised. 

Just Call Me Gladys Kravits

I spend a lot of time at the kitchen sink.  I won't bore you with the details of why, but you can guess.

From there, I have a perfect view of the house kitty-corner across the street.  Dave and Amy live there.  They are a young-ish couple with two incomes and no children.  I often live vicariously through them as they drive away for a Saturday morning brunch at one of those cute places by the river.  (I have no idea where they are really going, but what is the point of taking  a vicarious trip to Home Depot?)

Last Wednesday, from my spot at the kitchen sink, I saw Dave wheel the recycling can out to the curb.  This was worthy of note, (in my small nosy-pants world anyway), because pick-up day is Monday for garbage, and every other Monday for recycling.  Hmm.

At first, I thought they were going out of town and would not be here on Sunday night to put the can out.  But, Dave did not put the garbage can out.  Double hmm.

That night, with Dave and Amy still clearly at home, a blustery rain storm swept up our street, over-turning Dave and Amy's can, spreading recycling half way down the block.  The next morning, they were both out there, dressed for work, picking up wet news paper and crushed aluminum cans.  Then, Dave wheeled the can back to the house.  Triple hmm.  (I'll stop with the "hmm" thing now.  I know when a bit gets tired.)

Over here, in the part of the housing development that is actually my business, our recycling can was fit to burst.  The previous recycle pick-up Monday was a holiday.  Hubband and I (mostly Hubband, but I should have thought to remind him) forgot to put the cans out.  We did notice in time to put the garbage can out in front of the vacant house across the street, but the recycling truck was long gone.  Dave and Amy would have both had that day off too.  The real story (as I saw it) was beginning to present itself.

Dave and Amy, (mostly Dave, but Amy should have reminded him) forgot to put their recycling out on the last pick-up day.  Their can was full.  So was the recycling bin in the house.  It was over flowing or the cat was into it.  They came home from a long day at work.  They were tired.  They were hungry.  They had no children to scream at.  So, they turned on each other.

You shouldn't let the bin get so full.

You should take it out more often.

Why can't you take it out?

Because there is no room in the can!

You're bringing that up again?  Let it go!

Well, don't forget next time.

Maybe if I had a nice wife, she would remind me.

Maybe if my husband weren't such an ass, I'd be nicer.

You see how quickly these things can degenerate.  Until finally...

All I want is to eat my dinner!

All I want is for the recycling to get taken out before the truck comes!

Fine!  You want the recycling out?  I'll take it out!  Right now.  It can sit out there on the curb all week for all I care!  Are you happy now?

Or, maybe he just got his days mixed up.