Confession

I garbage picked. On trash day, I was driving back to my house and saw these two awesome looking end tables (which I have no end tables) in someone's trash. More specifically, a neighbor's trash. I park my car in the driveway and decide to walk over to check them out, thinking it is just too good to be true, there must be something terribly wrong with them. I walk over, and am thinking these are some damn fine tables to be in someone's trash. They are far too nice to go to the dump. They deserve a loving home. MY home. So, I grab one of the tables and hike it back to my house. The hike to my garage being not just a couple doors down, but more like 100 feet away. I briefly look around to see if anyone is watching me... Decide that I'm moving in less than two weeks, so who the heck cares. Of course after I get the first table in the garage, I have to go back to get the 2nd table. So I repeat the walk back over the person's trash, and then the walk of shame back to my garage. I quickly close the garage door and run upstairs to look out the window to see if anyone was around that might have seen me do this. Not a person in sight; the neighborhood is dead and desolate. Sweet. I got away with it without anyone knowing. One might think I would not share this story with anyone, but I was seriously so excited about the tables (both because I actually needed them and because they are some damn fine looking tables) that I told several people merely minutes after the acquisition. Yes, it's official, I am a garbage picker.