Outonthetiles

Glass recycling day at my house used to sound like someone firing a cannonball through a bottle factory. I'd sneak the recycling bin down the driveway at 2 a.m., completely drunk, hoping no neighbors would hear me (really tricky during the summer when everyone sleeps with their windows open), and then go back to bed, already planning my excuse to call in late for work. Every Monday about 8 a.m. I'd be jarred awake by the recycling truck, and when it was at my house, it'd sound like an avalanche of bottles, which it was.