Well, forget that. I don't think that we'd be able to put a man on the moon these days, but still. Here's the story.

So last Wednesday ballistabob and I hop in the car and go to the gym. It is 5:45 a.m. and we notice that the boys have forgotten to take out the trash. Wednesdays are trash days, and the trash can is supposed to be at the curb no later than 6 a.m. Of course, we are running late and we don't have time to take it out ourselves or even yell at the guys to get their asses out of bed and take care of that. Oh, well.

At 7:15 a.m. we come back and the garbage truck has not picked up anyone's trash yet. Hooray! We put it out, and get inside to take a shower and have breakfast. By the time we get out of the house, the garbage truck has still not picked up the trash. (This is not unusual. They usually show up at around 9.)

In the afternoon, I notice that the trash can is back in it usual place, but that a bright green cardboard tag is hanging from the handle, tied with a neat little string bow. The card, a pre-printed form reads:

We are sorry, but we could not pick up your trash. Reason: Garbage can was not at the curb before 6:00 a.m.

I peek inside the can and, sure enough, the trash is still there.

Okay, at that point I realize that I should be upset, but instead, I burst out laughing.

Explain this to me. First of all, how did you know that my trash was not at the curb before 6 a.m.? Second, you didn't have time to empty the can into the garbage truck, but you took the pain of attaching a little green card, and check in the box for "Not at the curb before 6 a.m." (In blue ink.)

I wonder if they have the neighborhood squirrels in their payroll. Little bastards are ratting on me, and I bet they're making a mint in acorns.

Or maybe peanuts.

Do squirrels like peanuts?

I bet that there is a secret tunnel under my house where the little varmints are swimming in nuts doing their best Uncle Scrooge impersonation.

I wonder if I can bribe them . . .

Now, where did I leave those walnuts?