Today, I want to to share this short story I wrote nearly three years ago . . .
When my son finally fell asleep for a nap, I felt free to do anything. However, the unwashed dishes and piles of laundry weighed heavily on my sense of obligation. I started by scraping the remains of last night’s meal into the trash. Full again. I sighed and tied up the bag.
As I approached the black trash can at the corner of the porch, I heard a rustle of leaves and a chirping noise coming from out of sight on the right. I carefully approached the trash can. Another rustle of leaves. This time, I could tell they came from near the abandoned blue trash can. Fear of rabid animals and my poor choice of raggedy blue slippers as shoes hastened my retreat indoors.
With the windows open to the fine spring weather, I could still hear rustling leaves and chirping noises. I decided to face the potentially rabid creature rather than face a cranky baby. I gathered my courage and changed my shoes to venture back outside. The chirping noises became more frustrated. Could a bird have gotten trapped? The noises definitely came from the trash can filled with cardboard for car work and dead leaves.
I gently tapped on the trash can and jumped back at the vigorous rustling noises. The animal had definitely fallen into the trash can. I pulled out my phone to ask hubby for advice. Before he could respond, I picked up the blue bin by the handle. I slowly moved it to the grassy area while keeping it at arm’s length. I took a deep breath and gently tipped the can away from me.
Once the can hit the ground, a chipmunk scurried out and dashed for cover. I let my breath out in a sigh of relief. I replaced the trash can in its neglected corner and went back inside. The baby stayed asleep, and I sent my hubby a brief message of victory.