There's a noise outside that arouses me from my seven hour coma. I am in that blissful place between sleep and early morning sobriety (kind of like when you're all hopped up on nitrous oxide at the dentist office and don't want to finish getting that root canal if it forces you to return to the real world). As I hear the noise again, I glance at the clock. It's 7:30! This is the latest my children have ever collectively slept! My first thought is: Wow! What a glorious start to Memorial Day! Quickly followed by my second thought of: I hope the girls weren't abducted by aliens since they never sleep past 6:00. I ignore the noise outside as it grumbles closer. My husband sits straight up and yells "Motherfucker! It's the garbage truck!"
It can't be. It's Memorial Day. It's an actual holiday - not a holiday that only the state of Rhode Island celebrates or some obscure religious holiday that you pretend to follow to try to get out of work. I mean, for God's sake - they "forgot" our entire street once but here they are at 7:30am on a holiday???
We dash downstairs to bring the cans to the street. We are big time screwed if we miss it since we had a holiday weekend cookout. The raccoons are already camping out around the bin like they're waiting for the doors to open at an all you can eat BBQ buffet. And, these are brazen raccoons. You go near them to shoo them away and they are like "Bitch. Stand in line. I was here first."
We drag the bins down to the street just in time. Which is no easy feat - as there are three bins in California: one for trash, one for recycling and one for green waste. We are trying to catch our breath for a moment when I notice the neighbors across the street. They're sitting on their porch enjoying their morning coffee out and apparently watching the show. That's when I realize that I'm standing there in a t-shirt, underwear and a hot pair of fluffy slippers.
I do the only thing I can think of. I wave and say "Happy Memorial Day."
They wave back. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
I can hear the raccoons say "I told you this neighborhood was going downhill."