Sometimes, even trash cans need to be free

The skies look way to innocent and blue this morning, particularly given what they dished out late last night. A wayward and rather angry monsoon like storm that dumped torrents last night wreaked havoc around town. We were lucky, no broken windows or downed trees. But .. my trash and recycling wheelies, monoliths that they are and weighed down with refuse .. upped and trundled away into the inky wet night.

The rain was beyond heavy, you could see the water dumping, fighting for space as it hit the ground. The road turned river and a parade of large barrel bins, their gallons of girth and lids clammed up headed downstream.

I saw them go. They looked like they slipped moorings, thought a moment and then off they went knee deep in water, gaining speed as they realised they were free. It was weird. Things always look spookier late at night.

This morning, a neighbor helped me find one of them but the grand purple recycler full of broken down boxes has chugged off completely.

As we dragged the wayward back home, the street was strewn with remnants of soggy paper and the odd wine bottle. Folk were emerging to clean up after the crazy mardi gras of trash cans that had clearly partied the night away.