On Saturday, my washing machine arrived, which was a beautiful and glorious thing. Especially in weather hot enough to make someone, perhaps me, want to throw my melting body into the wash water and just loll there, or maybe just sit up on the concrete wash board and agitate the dirt out with my feet. The washing machine is easier. The clothes come out cleaner, too.
I'm trying to do as little physical exertion as possible these days. It's got to easily be 100 degrees inside my house. Outside, I still have to wear sunblock at 5 pm.
But I'm not complaining about the weather. I'm here to share a happy experience. On Monday, after a long, long ride on the bus after our street ministry, I walked up my red steps to something I wasn't expecting. My porch was CLEAN. All the oodles and oodles of plastic and styrofoam washing machine packing, along with a big, nasty bag of trash that was sitting on my back porch, were gone. Someone took out the trash for me!!!
That just doesn't happen a lot when you live alone. Okay. Ever.
I'm guessing my trash angel was our "groundskeeper," if you can call him that. The man just sprays down the walkway and waters one potted plant...
Or maybe it was my new neighbor, who has already realized that I'm a bit forgetful about the trash pickup, usually having to hurtle myself along our corridor when I hear the truck's rumble.
I don't really care who my trash angel was. It made my night!