Monk Snuffling

As I was driving to the dog park this morning, I noticed it was hard rubbish collection, and everyone was merrily throwing their old junk onto the side of the road, ready for the garbage trucks to come get it. Always my fathers daughter, I can't help scanning the trash, although instead of taking it and pretending to turn it into rabbit hutches/shelving units etc, I tend to wonder what sort of person it is who threw out the two legged chair and various other pieces of junk. As I was daydreaming about who once owned the bird cage not big enough to house an actual bird, I noticed a monk. Piling up all his old garbage. And for a split second I wondered if I should dress up all in black, come back at night time and snuffle through his trash to see what secrets a monk has.

Then I realized what a raging psychopath that would make me, and wondered why I think such strange things.