I live in a small college town. Every summer students take off for summer internships or mom's washing machine. For everyone but landlords this leaves an unbelievably peaceful place to walk at night and hear armature musicians. The landlords, on the other hand, loose three months of rent every year. So, the powers that be met together and decided to offer only year-long leases that begin on September 1st. Thus on August 31st about 40 per cent of the population packs all their possessions into moving trucks and begins a new chapter.
One of the results of this is an unofficial "Dumpster Diving Day". There comes a moment in every packer's day where you stand up and shout, "That's it! I can not take it any more! All this crap that is not boxed up is going to the dumpster!" This is where the diving comes in. Those of us not moving have a veritable smorgasbord of perfectly good free junk. You will see us in the afternoon and evening picking through these leavings. And in my town not only are the movers kind enough to leave the good stuff stacked neatly outside the dumpster, but also many of these divers have NPR blaring from our car stereo (including those in SUV hybrids).
Most years I come across some real find - like the cherry wood bed frame from last year, or a new in-the-box waffle iron. This year, however, was a total dud. I think we missed the critical time. The time that is late enough for the frustrated packers to put stuff out and early enough that you get there before the other divers. Instead My Sweet and I found out that we have different levels of pride/humility when it comes to what to "dive" for. Let's just say that I still contend that if the pie filing and soup is in a can, there is nothing wrong with it. But for the sake of marital harmony I left them there for some other, probably single, diver to enjoy.
Joie de Vivre ~ A Hearty Joy of Living!