Open Letter

Dear Jefe:

I did it again.

I know, right?!

You know that at any other time of the year, I am Johnny-On-The-Spot about getting those cans out-- even going so far as to flag down the garbage man begging him to wait-- on the other side of the street-- while I run them over to him. In my Pajamas.

I don't know what it is about the third garbage day in December, but I just can't seem to remember it. I must be conditioned to forget about it, because I have. Every single year for the last four years.

Every year we ride into Christmas with no room at the proverbial Inn. Nothing. Nada. Over crowded to the Max.

Every single year I promise up one side and down the other that I will NOT forget next year to get the garbage cans out. I will tattoo it on my forehead, if need be, so I won't forget.  But I do. Every single year.

I about died this afternoon, as I was lazily hanging out with my sister, when I saw her neighbor carrying stuff out to the garbage can. The bells and whistles sounded louder than a nuclear siren. I let out a scream that could be heard across three counties and bellowed:

I FORGOT THE GARBAGE AGAIN!

I may have scared the snot out of my sister. Who knows. I was too busy wailing and gnashing my teeth.

I can't believe I have done it, yet again.

Christmas is next week and Garbage day falls on Christmas Eve. Here's hoping they aren't taking the day off and will come to my rescue. Otherwise, it's going to be a long and trashy week.

I'm sorry, and here's hopping you won't give me a lump of coal instead of that sweet present that I KNOW you got for me! {wink wink}

Love,
~motherboard