I was riding the exercycle in our basement, reading The Hunger Games, when I heard it. The rumble and roar of the recycling truck. Only our recycling bin was not at the curb. I raced upstairs and managed to push it down our long narrow driveway, past my car, over loops of hose (thinking that what I was doing was not nearly as hard as what Katniss was doing in The Hunger Games). I made it just in time, apologizing profusely. I was conscious of my sweaty, bed-headed, obviously non-bra wearing self.
The guy took a step back. "It's okay, really, it's okay" he said as I babbled on and on. He looked uncertain and a bit frightened. It wasn't until I got back inside that I wondered if he thought I the kind of life where I spend a lot of time apologizing.
