This was originally going to be titled “mrs. mediocrity takes a stroll.” Well, hopefully something better than that, but it wasn’t going to be called block party.
Yesterday was sunny and beautiful, so after I finished work I decided to take my man’s best friend for a stroll. I was planning to take a nice walk, snap a few photos, perhaps show you my neighborhood. Well I’m still going to do that in a way, but as the saying goes, it ain’t pretty.
I live in a rural area, and a walk around my block is four miles long. There are quite a few houses, but a lot of it is farm fields. Wide open spaces. I like that. Things started off just fine, the sun was low in the sky, it was 55 balmy degrees, and little signs of spring were everywhere. And then about 30 yards from my house, this:
And then another, and another, and another. I stopped counting after 47. In front of my favorite spot, a small pasture that reminds me of something you would see in England, there they were, scattered everywhere:
And then in front of my beautiful swamp, just down the road from my house, more, everywhere:
When I saw the first few, I figured it was probably kids…partying and being crazy. But clearly, this is so much more.
Now I am not trying to take the moral high ground here, Okay, I am, about the littering, that’s just wrong. But not the drinking.
Okay maybe a little about the drinking.
Now I like my wine as much as the next girl, so I can’t get too high on my horse about that part. But…seriously? Is this person drinking/chugging one of these things on the way home every night and then tossing it out the window? While driving?
The whole thing just made me sad. And angry. And then sad some more. I was sad to see my road, my swamp, my block, littered like that. Mad to see it that way. Sad again when I thought about whoever is doing it.
Who is this poor soul guzzling a bottle of whiskey on their way to and/or from home on such a regular basis? Where do they live? And why can’t they find somewhere better to toss the evidence? I don’t want to be mean, it was really, really sad on so many levels. But after a while, it began to border on the absurd, the surreal.
So, instead of feeling calm and relaxed after a nice long walk, I felt disillusioned, disheartened, disturbed. And my pretty post about my walk around the neighborhood ended up littered with someone else’s dysfunction.
Well, maybe they need someone to listen. Or pay attention. Or notice them. Maybe they need someone to care. Even if I knew who it was, what would I do? What could I do?
Help is what they need, more than anything.
And more than anything, I hope they find it.