Here’s a story that you’d have to live through to believe. (How many times have I said that?)
Yesterday began like any other Tuesday – Gossip Girl recaps with trola, looking forward to hitting the mall for some treats, and garbage day pickup on my street.
Well, the neighbour across the street (whose name and address shall remain anonymous even though I have a good mind to publish it across the net) decided to sneak in A CAN OF PAINT into their garbage. I mean, there’s a hazardous waste disposal centre about 2 km away, but I’m never surprised at how lazy people can brazenly break the law.
So the garbage truck comes by, the garbage man picks up their trash, and throws it into the hopper (of course, not realizing that there is in fact a paint can buried deep within their junk). Then the lever comes down to crush the garbage, and in the process, causes the paint can to explode.
It explodes all over my husband’s shiny black car, which is on the street.
To their credit, the garbage men (is that apropos? should I call them Waste Collection representatives? whatever) sprung into action and helped us hose down the car, and scrub the paint off before it dried. And, miraculously, we managed to remove it all, as it was latex paint (phew!)
The City Of Mississauga was called and the homeowners were fined on the spot (I wonder how much it was? They didn’t look too happy). The responsible party also agreed to pay for our car detailing and cleaning to make sure the car looks as good as new.
And that, my friends, are the consequences when bad neighbours happen to good people. (Coincidentally, their house is for sale. PLEASE someone buy it, I can’t wait to get rid of them.)