garbage

"Don't go out in your house slippers."

Damn. Caught. I kicked them off my feet and stepped across the cold hardwood floor to slide my feet uncomfortably into my Converse, without bothering to lace them or pull the heel up. I don't care how dirty my slippers got; I had always been too lazy to switch them to shoes meant for the outdoors. Besides, I wasn't even going farther than probably 20 feet.

Smacking the flat white button, I watched the garage door crank up. I peered into the black abyss of my neighborhood at night, wondering why it was so dark. I had come home only two hours before, and it had been much lighter then. I took a step forward, trying to keep my shoe from slipping off my foot. The sidewalk was strangely darker than usual. The soft yellow lamp that stood erect on my front lawn shone on the driveway, its image distorted and twisted, as if someone had squished it and spread it with a rolling pin. The annoyance of taking out the garbage so late at night faded. Rain. As I heard the it fall quietly, gently, before me, I readjusted my grip on the plastic bags weighing my arms down and stepped into the damp night.

I swung open our sideyard door to realize I had forgotten to turn the outside light on. Walking back to my garage, I went up to a switch with three buttons. Which one, which one. One illuminated the entire garage on, the other two did nothing. I remembered a switch was in the kitchen (I have no idea why) and went back into the house.

"Take off your shoes!" A voice came instantly, knowing my steps could easily be heard as I stomped inside. Shaking them off, I hopped to the kitchen to slap the switch that flickered the sideyard light on. After putting my shoes back on, and picking up the bags, and walking back out into the drizzle, it felt better to see three large bins illuminated by the light. I lifted the gray bin's lid, threw a bag in. Lifted the blue's, threw a bag in. Both times the lids sent a splatter of drops onto me as they fell closed. I shook them off despite the fact I was already wet enough.

I turned to leave, then stopped at the sight of the drops falling under the lamplight. It was strange. I stared for a while, trying to watch one drop as it entered the light to where it hit the ground, but lost it every time. I peered up to let a couple fall on my face, my hair.

Whenever it was raining in the day, I watched for rainbows. They just made me feel better inside. But I didn't need the daytime now so I could see if a rainbow was out. I was perfectly happy here, where it was quiet, and the only sound was the rain hitting the cement. It was calming and nothing else mattered.

Then I remembered I was next to three garbage bins by a tool shed and went back inside.

I feel like writing prose more often. Hrm.