The distinction between garbage and contraband
Among the treasures from today, illicit materials. I agree, it sounds interesting, but it is not really. We did not find much that had value, as we waited for a series of rain showers to pass over. The lawn had been close cropped, earlier in the day, so we did not mind a cheap watering for our lawn.
Oddly the telephone did not ring, all afternoon. I did answer the scam calls, carefully remaining silent for longer than usual, as a way to reset their voice detection circuits. Talking to few idiots, in consequence.
Among the sadder papers, in a box, were the clippings from a marine tragedy that involved some of my former students. Familiar names, imagined faces, and a realization that the sea is deadly.
We found a collection of one hundred plastic garbage bags. White. No longer legal in this province because of our obscure recycling mandate, but we will carry them away to another place. There, we can discard daily garbage without offending the authorities.
There were other amazing articles, in boxes. The contract for our first home. The contract for my last apartment. The old directories for ham radio, which depended on where I lived. A set of dated rail timetables, because that was something that seemed to hide in the corners, in case you got off at the wrong station. I never did, but I was attentive.
What else? We are getting through the good stuff. We put away a small camp stove just in case of emergency.
