Living in the City

Paul was sitting cross-legged on the stoop, listening to his iPod, eyes closed and smiling, looking like some smug temple Buddha waiting for a floral tribute; and the offerings had arrived, except that they were domestic recyclables in a blue container rather than garlands and incense. "Are these yours?" I asked him, indicating the pile of plastic and paper. "Because they don't pick up until Wednesday and this stuff will blow all over the street, and besides making a huge mess we'll also probably get a trash violation ticket." He shook his head without looking, still smiling, apparently unconcerned. These mundane matters were obviously beneath the consideration of such an enlightened being as he. "Whoever it is did the same thing last week and the week before that," I said. "I don't understand why they can't just follow the directions and put their stuff out on the designated day." The Buddha shrugged, registering only a slight blip on his beatific countenance. "I bet if we made everyone in the building take an IQ test, then the person with the lowest score would be our culprit, because that's how cretinously stupid the guilty party must be." I continued, receiving a small grin and a nod in response .... "Or perhaps we'd have a choice of two candidates: the idiot and somebody else. You know, the sort of person who doesn't give a damn, for instance."