As in, “I’m in the doghouse now!”

Thing is, she’s only sixteen months old (yesterday), and I can’t believe that she loves me so much, even when I mess up this badly.

You see, today is trash day. Last night, when I got home from church, I took the recycle bin out to the recycle barrel, and took both it and the trash barrel out to the curb.

They were picked up this morning, rather efficiently, I thought.

Now, I now why they were picked up so quickly.

You see, the recycle bin sits in the pantry. On the shelves above the bin are various and sundry foodstuffs. One particular item, a freezer zip-lock type baggie full of processed fruit-snacks, sits directly above the recycle bin, about two shelves up. (seasoned readers, and those who have good foreshadowing skills, can see where this is leading)

We went to the pantry this afternoon to get a fruit snack for the little girl. She pointed at the spot where the baggie should have been. I had a bit of a puzzled look on my face as I frantically searched the entire pantry, hoping beyond hope that, perhaps, it got placed on a different shelf.

No such luck.

As near as I can guess, the baggie landed in the recycle bin and I didn’t notice it.

(Dear City of Glendale:
Yes, I know that food does not belong in the recycle bin. It was an accident. Please forgive me, and don’t take away my recycle privileges. Please?)

She is not speaking to me at the moment. Hopefully, that will pass when I give her a piece of cheese instead.

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