Vultures

I don't get it. Last fall we tried to get rid of a mattress, and it very nearly required major political intervention. See, to drop things at the Authorized Blessed Official City Dump, you need to present a current Tampa Trash and Water bill. We rent, and that's the one bill the landlord takes care of.

When I tried to ditch the mattress, it was a nightmare. One of our neighbors finally took pity on us and took it in with his utility bill (probably because he was tired of it being on the curb).

So I called this morning and explained the situation, and, in an oddly helpful moment, the Big Pieces of Trash man said, "OK. I wrote down your address. Just put it at the curb tonight with the rest of your trash and we'll get it tomorrow."

Mr. Abby had, in the meantime, squared away the flight issue and was at home changing into suitable flying attire (this is another post in and of itself). So we backed his truck up to the curb and put the damn thing out. I grabbed a Sharpie and wrote "I DON'T WORK" on both sides, and added, "scheduled for removal 5/8/07."

Then I took him to the airport. I got home, and it's gone.

I cannot imagine who on earth would want our dead refrigerator, but I hope whoever took it gets whatever they're hoping for out of it.