Part two of our trashcan saga is below. Part 2 takes place two months after Part 1.
You can read the original here: https://beanxiousaboutnothing.wordpress.com/2015/05/20/awkward-phone-calls-and-the-midwests-finest-nicaraguan-attack-gerbils/
Argh! I just hung up the phone after having to make an awkward phone call. So, awhile back you may recall I talked about our city’s problem with trash can thieves. I thought it would be good to put a counter on my blog to track the number of days we’ve gone without having our can be stolen. Well, as of last night that counter would have to go back down to zero. Yep, those danged oversized squirrels have struck again! After a month of vacation–destination unknown, but most likely someplace sandy with umbrella drinks–they struck our neighborhood once again.
And so this afternoon I was forced to place a call to our local waste collection center and essentially greeted the operator by saying, “hey, it’s us again!” I did feel slightly relieved when, after she looked at our record, she noted that this will only be our 3rd trash can. Although part of me is wondering if they throw out records after so many cans are replaced on one account. 3 seems like such a low number.
So, as we are back to square one, I am being forced to take more drastic measures. Last night we visited our local farm implement store and purchased 4 of their biggest, fiercest Nicaraguan Attack Gerbils–we would have sprung for the Combat Trained variety, but you have to make sacrifices when you are poor. They will be placed outside our garage after our new can arrives, and take turns making sure our trash can stays put. In the likely event that a thief, of any species, is caught trying to steal the can, the Gerbil on duty will automatically take the offender down, sit on them and blow three sharp blasts on their attack whistles-these are thrown in free of charge at the register-summoning the appropriate authorities. Your move, squirrels! 😛
(this is Jorge. When he's not outside patrolling to keep our trashcan safe, he lives down in our basement, subsisting on Redbull and licorice. )