You Have Been Warned, Litterer

I tried to be nice. I tried to be civil. I kept my complaints restricted to this blog, rather than letting them fuel physical action. But it appears that I should've been more demonstrative, more emphatic in stating my concerns. Once again, I have professionally printed litter on my lawn. And I am not happy.


This photo was taken this morning, as I was bringing my trash and recyclables to the curb for collection. I wanted to tell myself that the flash of blue on my grass was a trick of sun and dew, but I knew better. My landscape had been defiled again. Perhaps even worse, it happened while I was sleeping, while my guard was down.

You can see how far the bag is from my driveway. Clearly, this bag was tossed on my front lawn with callous disregard. (You can also see that the grass needs to be cut. I will be working on that later today. I probably would've started earlier, had it not been necessary to retrieve plastic bags stuffed full of newsprint dross from my lawn.)

I tried to be cool about this, but now, this appears to be personal. Next weekend, I will sleep on my lawn, waiting for this brazen litterer to strike again. And maybe I won't cut my grass, so the blades are tall, and my presence is hidden. I'll go to the army surplus store this week and buy camouflaged attire to further disguise my intent.

And then, when the dreck dumper drives by, either stopping at my driveway or slowing down to toss that sack out of his or her car window, I will rise. And I will strike. I will pounce like an animal whose cage door was left open. I'm-a smack you 'cross the arms and face with a rake, mofo. And I will enjoy it.