Now that the temperature is no longer in the 90s, Mr. FS and I ventured out for a stroll through our neighborhood after dinner. As I mention now and again, my neighborhood is filled with big fancy houses and little tiny houses. There are even some medium-sized houses, such as the one in which I reside. I like the diversity, so unlike the cookie-cutter suburbia in which I grew up.
It happened that one of the streets has garbage pick-up tomorrow. As an amateur sociologist I find it interesting to scan the recycling bins. People drink so much alcohol and diet coke!
You can probably see where this is leading. To add a bit of suspense, let me ask: have you ever read Laurie Colwin? I love her fiction, which features urban people with lots of education and interesting careers. She also wrote wonderful books on cooking.
One of her novels, Happy All the Time, features a character named Misty Berkowitz. I kind of identified with Misty because she has these great one-line zingers, not that I could ever have thought of them. Misty is also sullen and moody, just like me. In spite of her moodiness, the wealthy Vincent Somebody-or-Other falls madly in love with her. He lives off a trust fund, but works as a garbage analyst, writing important studies.
One of Misty's zingers to her garbage analyst is "Rich people make me sick." I can't remember what prompts this comment, but it does not deter the smitten Vincent.
Anyway, Mr. FS and I passed the once-beautiful, now falling-down house, that, according to Frugal Son who knew two of the girls who lived there, has rooms filled with garbage.
We went by the new, fancy house that sold for almost a million dollars. It was built on the site of a house that was torn down. A man who had killed his mother had lived there after he was released from a mental institution. The new house is quite ostentatious. There, next to their garbage can, was a giant cardboard box. I stepped closer to investigate. I never did figure out what was originally in that box, but I saw a grocery bag filled with hangers. At the top of the bag was a new-looking pair of white shoes.
Now I don't wear white shoes, but I took them anyway. I will donate them to Goodwill, where someone will be delighted to get a pair of Sesto Meucci flats.
We continued on our walk, stopping to talk to people who run a business called Holistic Pet Care. When we got home, I said to Mr. FS, "I'm going to go back and get the bag of hangers. The thrift stores are always asking for donations of hangers."
So I walked back and got the bag. Once I was home, I peeked inside. Under the hangers--neatly folded--was a pile of clothing, quite current, from Talbots and Rickie Freeman for Teri John. The latter, especially, were of the genre I call "rich lady clothes."
UGH. Why don't people donate these things? How horrible to just throw them out.
What would Misty say?: "Rich people make me sick."
Misty, by the way, ends up marrying the garbage analyst.
If you need some wonderful escapist reading, check out Laurie Colwin.
Her real masterpieces, I think, are her books on cooking.