Living Alone by H. Donald Cabinet

For the third consecutive Tuesday, I hold a cold bowl of Kashi Good Friends and look through the kitchen window at my un-evacuated garbage can. Several phone calls to City Hall and Municipal Waste, and there it sits. I am just fed up with insincere, smarmy pleasantries on the horn. I set the cereal down, slip into my shearling moccasins from last Christmas, and depart to carry the stinking bags to the dumpster behind the local taproom.