Monday, June 26, 2006


"If that thing's still out there after 8pm tonight," I said peering out the window, "I'm taking it."

Across the street, propped up next to the two trashcans and a cardboard box, was a beatup looking hand truck. It definitely had seen better days, but it was no where near close to being in the condition where it needed to be thrown away. Hell, with a bit of elbow grease to pry off the rust and a fresh coat of paint, it'll be as good as new.

"Why not take it now?" asked Nathalie.

Well, just in case it was left out there by accident, I'll give them the entire afternoon to go retrieve it. It was 1pm when I first spotted it. I spent 30 minutes contemplating whether or not to take it. Now that it was 2pm, I figured 6 hours was a decent grace period. And besides, once the sun set, it would be fair game.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing other random things and forgot about the hand truck. It wasn't until I remembered to take my own trashcans out to the curb that I remembered the hand truck.

After I brought my trash to the curb, I looked across the street. Amazingly, it was still there. There were a few more trashbags next to it as well. Now there was no doubt that my neighbor had meant to throw it away, for he would have brought it back into his garage when he brought out the other bags of trash.

I hesitated. There's nothing wrong with taking what someone throws out. But there's just something about rooting through someone's trash. Especially if the rootee happens to have a degree in medicine.

So with a few quick furtive glances, I dashed across the street, picked up my new treasure, and scampered back to my house and retreated towards my shed with glee.

As the saying goes, one man's trash is another man's treasure.