My beef with the Garbage Truck....

I meant to write this on Thursday, but I probably would have used some choice words, so I needed a couple days to calm down.

Dear Garbage Truck,

Why, oh why, must you be the loudest vehicle on the roads? Not even the big yellow twinkie makes as much noise as you. The brown delivery driver can sneak all the way up to the door, leave something, and be gone without me noticing he was here. Even if he does make a little peep, I am quick to forgive him as he usually leaves nice presents on the doorstep. You, on the other hand, have the world's squeakiest brakes, and while I understand that budget cuts are the new norm, I would appreciate that you try to squeak a little less when my daughter is taking a nap. Or for that matter, squeak in a lower pitch so my dog doesn't assume you are a dog whistle to which he must respond with the most obnoxious pacing, whining, and barking. He is 70 pounds of brawn without brains, and he just does not understand that you will not come any closer to the house than the end of the driveway. (Even though we followed this routine for over a year now.) I understand your job stinks (literally), but if you could humor me a little and keep it down I would greatly appreciate it.

With love and severe hate,

Erinn

Dear Garbage Truck Driver,

It is not necessary to accelerate to 20 mph between stops. The driveways in this subdivision are relatively close together, and the "VROOOOOOM, SQUEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK" combination gets really annoying. Not to mention, that you are traveling down hill. In addition, could you please refrain from parking in front of my house to make a phone call. The culdesac is one house down, and you are more than welcome to park Ol' Squeakalot there and chat. Reference my letter to the Garbage Truck to get a better understanding as to how your presence creates high levels of chaos in my household.

I love you, but I really don't like you,

Erinn