Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I see my neighbors every Wednesday morning. I mean, I really see my neighbors. Wednesday morning is trash day, you see. I typically remember to gather the trash and put it in the garage on Tuesday evening. On my way out in the morning, I plop it at the end of the driveway. My neighbors, on the other hand, don't have this forethought. I really don't need to know what my neighbors wear to bed. Why don't they cover up a bit before taking the trash out? There's plenty of time! On the way to work early yesterday morning, I saw a little old lady hobbling out to the end of the driveway in a fairly small nightie. That made me smile. Turning to look the other way, I saw an equally old man across the street dragging his trash bag along the driveway. He was wearing a bright pink night shirt tucked into maroon polyester pants that weren't fastened, but clearly pulled on for the purpose of taking out the trash. At least he tried. After placing the trash at the curb he backed up, surveyed it, and adjusted it. I watched in my rearview mirror as he did this a few more times, from different angles. By the time I lost sight of him, he was squatting down in the middle of the driveway staring at his trash. I almost circled around to make sure he made it back to his feet, but I was running late. There were other half-naked-trash-toting neighbors, but he took the cake.