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Sometimes your garbage talks to me

June 9, 2015
feed-the-fish

Try not to forget, ’kay?

Yesterday I found a nice little note taped to the outside of a garbage bag in a Fairview neighbourhood dumpster. It was a simple, brief reminder:

“Feed the Fish
A.M. 5-6 pellets
P.M. 2-3 pellets
Thank you!”

While not personally acquainted with the piscine pets in question, I trusted that they were being well looked after because the note was written in the fluid and legible handwriting of a caring and well-adjusted person.

In this case, the note was in the garbage because it had served its purpose and outlived its usefulness. Naturally it wasn’t addressed to me.

It’s weird to find a note to yourself in a stranger’s trash

It’s very rare that I encounter anything specifically addressed to me in the course of my binning through the Fairview back alleys for returnable beverage containers. The last time was about six months ago, when a homeless friend wrote my name on a bag of containers and left it in a dumpster along the route I usually take in the morning to go to breakfast. He was just messin’ with me but in a nice way.

Of course I shouldn’t forget the unflattering caricatures of me that another binner (also attempting to mess with me) executed several years ago inside several Container blue bins in the Fairview area — those were definitely addressed to me!

A favourite note that I found over two years ago was attached to a bag of cans and bottles that was inside of a Container blue bin, inside of a gated inclosure that not all binners were (or are) even aware of. The note wasn’t addressed to me specifically but rather to whichever of us binners found the bag. It said simply:

“Please don’t use these bottles to buy drugs”.

I probably used them to buy a large dark mocha but wow! I should’ve kept the note, right? I kick myself to this very day that I didn’t.

A person could while away many happy hours trying to imagine the mental state of the obviously sensitive and caring author of that note, as well as the exact amount of time elapsed between when they penned it and when they originally fell off the turnip truck.

And I say that with real love and affection. The world needs more softhearted boobs like that to help offset the rest of us hardened cynics. Click the image to enlarge it.

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