There is a private driveway in our side yard which leads back to the house of an older woman. She is in her seventies and the land our neighborhood was built upon was at one time her family’s farm. All that is left of her farm is the acre or so she lives on now and the rest has been sold away and separated into 101 lots. Her lot makes the count 102. Of the 102 family homes in our neighborhood, 101 of them have their trash day on Wednesday mornings. The only one who does not is the older woman who lives behind us. For some reason she places her trash out for Friday pickup, and every Friday, another dump truck comes to pick up her trash. I guess I never really thought about it too much before last week, but how and why on earth would this be happening? It is the same trash company, the same recycling company that picks up her trash as the rest of us. I cannot help but to believe that the truth of the matter lies somewhere on the edge of reason. I believe she lives in an ulterior universe which parallels our own for one day a week, Friday. Tonight, I have decided to test this theory out and see if our trash can too be picked up later this morning. Seeing as our trash was just picked up the day before yesterday, I am only putting one can with one bag in it out on the curb, but if it is gone tomorrow, then I may be one step closer to the truth.
I know what you are thinking, if I just asked someone, especially Mrs. Cornett, and then perhaps I would easily find the answer I am so desperate to know. But this could lead to many more problems. What if she really does live in an ulterior, whether anterior or posterior or right-on-top-ior, universe and she doesn’t want anyone to know about it? That play would be too rash and could endanger myself. No, I’ll try this one little experiment first before I draw any further conclusions and ideas of what to do next. Until then, I am going to be hiding in the bushes until the trash man cometh…