I had the day off today, and rather than spending it inside watching DVDs and piddling around on the internet, I spent only half the day doing that, and spent the other half outside, outside, running errands, reading. Maybe it’s the warm weather, but lately I’ve been spending less time online. This is a good, healthy thing, and perhaps the only undesireable result is that I’m less compelled to update my blog.

My week’s been progressing suspiciously smoothly, which is fine with me except that it hasn’t generated much material for my little repository of narcisissm here.

Or rather, it hadn’t, until a truck caught on fire.

Earlier this evening, I was coming home from the aforementioned errands when I saw fire trucks in the intersection near my house. I felt mild panic as I drove the other way around the block to get home, but not enough to stop singing along with the radio. My house was fine, and I got out of the car investigate.

Apparently the contents of a recycling truck had caught on fire while it was driving up my street; the MFD showed up and the truck dumped everything on the street so it could be hosed down with water and CO2. Several onlookers had gathered—it was the most I’d seen of my neighbors in the nine months I’ve lived here—and I was hardly the only person snooping around with a digital camera.

In addition to being a curious and generally harmless diversion, this incident confirmed what I’ve always suspected: recycling is evil.

See that yellow thing near the center of the photo? That’s a plastic patio chair. I love the fact that someone tried to recycle a chair.