Never know what we will find at end of Journal’s driveway

The end of the driveway entering The Journal is often like a horrific thrift store where you can find most everything in the world you would never want for yourself.

That mystery to our entry to work showed itself once more early yesterday (Monday) morning when I pulled in having to straddle my tires around the debris awaiting my attention.
These treasures always seem to find their way to our driveway on Monday– my day to roll the trash out to the road.

Over the years I’ve picked up dingy baseball caps, all kinds of clothing, even undergarments, a single shoe (there’s never a pair), half full Dr. Pepper and Sprite bottles (those must be the soft drinks of choice in these parts), and countless empty beer cans.
I don’t know what it says that the soda bottles are always half full and the beer cans are always completely empty, but that’s the reality.

I’ve picked up newspapers that didn’t belong to us, discarded mail, and a couple of deceased critters, most often felines.
As I made the turn into work Monday morning that’s what I feared was lying there when I made out the big pile of fur.
The bigger oddity, however, was that right beside it was a single, large, white fuzzy die, as in a pair of dice, but there was only one.

I rolled the garbage can out to the street preparing myself to go back for the shovel to scoop up the expired cat when I discovered something different – a large pile of dark brown human hair.
Upon closer inspection with a stick from the yard, I realized it was a weave, the kind many women like to intertwine into their own hair.
My mind suddenly went racing. What would cause someone to throw out a single die and a weave at the same spot, likely at the same time?

My best guess is a Christmas gone bad. A middle-aged couple – I say middle-aged because I don’t see as many youth today driving around with a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror as I did back in my day – were driving down Newberger Avenue in Bruce having quite the argument over their lack of fondness for their respective gifts.

They were approaching The Journal when they reached a boiling point prompting the man to snatch the weave off the woman’s head as she simultaneously ripped his dice from the mirror and they both tossed them out the window for me to find early Monday morning.
The other guess is someone, with no problem with littering, decided that was the spot they would clean out their car, but I prefer the first story.

What I don’t prefer is this apathy toward litter. I?have a disdain for litter anywhere, but especially in our driveway. I can empathize with a rotten Christmas gift, but take it to Goodwill, or at least have the decency to find a garbage can.

I’m not much on New Year’s resolutions, but in 2014 I do wish that I experience minimum discoveries in The Journal driveway.

Email Joel McNeece at joelmcneece@gmail.com & follow him on Twitter @joelmcneece