M has been stalking the garbage men so he can give them a Christmas gift so they will stop harassing and fining us for our inability to learn a new set of garbage and recycling rules. (Took us five years to master the manifold rules in Seattle. One of the many things Seattle does not joke about: waste management.) M spends a lot of time worrying about our garbage, which, in accordance with the you-can’t-worry-more-than-100% rule, means that I don’t have to.
He ran out today to chase the paper guys down (it seems we have to bundle up cardboard, something we are still trying to master. Give us four years, please.) But it turned out they were the plastics guys (plastics, Benjamin). He gifted them anyway. Maybe they’re friends with the paper guys, and can put in a good word for us.