Saturday, February 6, 2010

42. Chuck out rubbish from garden

The rubbish in the garden seems largely to stem from the curse of the Post Office red rubber band. Around the local sorting office, these rubber bands spread out in a carpet all over the road as you approach. I can't see that they make any effort to pick them up there, and certainly our local post people think nothing of discarding them as they go.

Our cats have an obsession with them, in the same way that previous cats Chokki loved cocktail umbrellas, and Poppy loved emery boards. Tilly and Maeby (thankfully) don't bring us home presents of dead things, but they do make approximations of that behaviour by bringing home these rubber bands and yowling at the back door until you go and congratulate them on their kill. They then spend hours making sure they're completely dead, before depositing them in a pile outside the back door.

I collected up as many as I could find, and went round with a bin bag searching in the corners for windblown pieces of rubbish, and plant labels which have lost their plants, and other general garden debris.

Mission complete.

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