I made a promise to send a note regarding the ending of my “flying dumpster” and the drama put forth by the green devil dumpster’s eighth escape from the collection truck in as many weeks. It reminded me of a nursery rhyme I read over and over again in the 1950s: “Run, run, as fast as you can; you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.”

It was dumpster pickup day Jan. 8 and in the afternoon I was just getting ready to open the garage door, and I steeled for another disappearance of “the Green Dumpster Man.” I went out, and he was not where he was supposed to be – once again. I scurried for my paper and my mail and in the corner of my eye, I found the rascal, laying down in the road-ditch.

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