Mad As Hell And... Oh, Never Mind

I had a I'm-Mad-As-Hell-Oh-Wait-Never-Mind moment this week.

This is rare for me. Usually I get Mad-As-Hell and I stay Mad-As-Hell.

My wrath was focused at the City of Cape Girardeau Public Works Department.

I went home at lunch this past Monday and found that my recycling bin had not been emptied by the city. Instead, tied to its handle was a fluorescent pink tag that told me why.

There were a number of reasons already pre-printed on the pink tag -- "exceeds two containers limit" and "too far from curb" and "overloaded," to name a few. It was apparent that the tag was left over from the previous trash collection system. You would be hard-pressed to overload one of these city-supplied collection bins that is required by the robotic collection system we've been using since April.

But the reason my bin wasn't emptied must have been out of the ordinary since someone had scrawled near the bottom of the tag, "Car is blocking can."

My personal Mad-As-Hell Meter started red lining.

Obviously whatever vehicle was blocking our recycling bin did not belong to either my wife or me. We were both at work that morning.

A number of questions raged through my mind.

Was the city now holding me accountable for whoever parks in front of my house on a public street?

Did the possession of this fluorescent pink tag mean that the Public Works Department was essentially deputizing me to be The Law for all parking spots adjacent to my property?

Could I now put up parking meters in front of my house and have people towed and enjoy all the other benefits of being The Parking Czar for my portion of the block?

And my id immediately started pestering my ego and superego to see if this was a justifiable reason to buy one of those cool 3-wheel vehicles that meter maids use to patrol the streets of the big cities looking for parking scofflaws.

Yes, I know I only have 5 or 6 parking spots to police, but when I get as Mad-As-Hell I sometimes get a little nutty.

So I ripped the tag from the recycling bin and stomped into my house to have lunch. After I ate I stomped back to my truck and returned to work. The rest of the afternoon I stomped around the office. I tend to do a lot of stomping when I'm as Mad-As-Hell.

When I returned home that evening my recycling bin was no longer out by the street. It was sitting behind my house. I figured either my wife or my father-in-law who lives nearby had rolled it back there.

Tuesday came and went and I was still Mad-As-Hell.

But then on Wednesday, I went to stuff some more recycling into the presumably fairly full bin and was surprised to find nothing in it.

I can only assume that the recycling truck returned to my block sometime Monday afternoon and emptied the bin. Perhaps, the tag was meant to be more informative than anything.

So I guess that means I've not really been deputized by the Public Works Department, that I'm not The Parking Czar of my block. No parking meters. No having people towed on a whim.

Darn.

I really had my heart set on one of those cool 3-wheel meter maid cars to patrol my block.