We love Ishmael.
Not the narrating whale chaser from Moby Dick -We love Ishmael our garbage man.
It was because I neglected to check the schedule and thought the trash was delayed a day of this great love for him that I waited until I heard the truck making its way around the outer circle of the ‘hood today and didn’t put the trash on the curb.
Then I jumped up from where I was sitting -clad in an old sports bra and jammie pants- at the kitchen table, taking out the power cord of my computer on my way out of my seat, and raced up the stairs to grab the diaper pail.
Slipping back down the stairs I grabbed my black puffy coat to cover my upper half and rushed out the garage door. With one hand clutching the stanky can full of diapers, the other wheeling the rest of the trash behind me, I ran up the middile of the road, hair stuck to my head with a goopy blue-tinged deep conditioning treatment, yelling “WAIT!!” “ISHMAEL!!!” after the lumbering truck several houses up the way from ours.
I am not kidding, he stopped what he was doing, set down the neighbor’s trashcan, and laughed so hard he was crouched over with both hands on his knees.
See – I made him happy.
Because we love Ishmael.
Just Sayin’.
Reluctantly Suburban 