They were looking a little depressed...

My thanks to SuburbanCorrespondent for virtually reminding me to put them out on the curb [kerb, for you British types] on Tuesday. No, not all of them; we have extras because of the remodeling on the other half of the duplex, or maybe they are canoodling when I am asleep. Every time I turn around there seems to be another one. When I moved in, there were four: two for trash and two for recycling. Now there are six or seven. They probably sing doo-wop under the crepe myrtles while I am at work.

Three of them are/were lying on their sides because the old front doors, which you can just barely see if you look between the two leftmost ones, blew over in a gust of wind on Sunday afternoon. I just left them as is until it was time to roll mine out to the curb, figuring that they certainly couldn’t fall any farther.

Another good article on Meridian.

@Francis: If you mean the pictures I took of my neighborhood, no, not the Eastside, but the Cultural District, more specifically what Trainman familiarly calls “The Heights,” because he used to live a few blocks from here.

@Tan: Guinness makes stout, which is a dark, chewy sort of beer.

I popped a nail and [temporarily, at least] sent it into the umpteenth dimension. It happened while I was sitting at switchboard, because there was this jounce and then roughness where the acrylic was gone. I crawled under the desk and felt around for it, but there must have been a lurking alien who captured it and transported it to the mother ship for scientific research. If you suddenly see a whole bunch of feisty middle-aged women who look like me, you’ll know why.

Usually when this happens, I am able to find the missing nail and plausibly attach it to my finger with a clear band-aid until I can get to the Nail Dude’s. I was afraid that I would have to gimp along with one naked nail until Saturday, because I have no evening free until then. But a second search under the desk brought up two chunks of petrified chocolate muffin and the fugitive nail. So I was able to do my Redneck Manicure, and life goes on.

I took a good look at the red sock when I sat down on the train yesterday morning, and I realized that my gauge had gone all loosey-goosey. So I frogged it back to within a couple of rows of the end of the toe increases, and I started over, and I am much, much happier with it.

When I got home from Relief Society, some kind soul had put my empty bins back alongside the house. Bless your heart, whoever you are, and not in the Southern sense.