I went out to get the mail last night and found a used condom wrapper in the middle of my damn lawn. How the hell did that get there? I mean, are there illicit sex acts occurring in my yard that I’m not getting to participate in or something?

Regardless, picking up condom wrappers out of your yard is a humbling experience. You really don’t want to touch it, so you kind of get a stick… and push it around for a while until you realize you can’t pick it up with a single stick, so you cast about for a second stick… then you go into the garage and get a shovel…

It also makes you feel like you’re living in some sort of anarchic post-apocalyptic Blade Runner world. Come on, man - rubber wrapper in the suburban yard? Come on.

I guess I should be thankful it wasn’t like a used hypodermic needle or something. The worst I get is a dog turd in the middle of the sidewalk (that was last week) or a condom wrapper in my yard. Lots of shoveling going on around my place.

Next time I’ll take photos. I’m actually having some digital camera problems right now (the problem is that it fucking chews through batteries like a pack of hyenas through a herd of sick wildebeests) so I’m not taking a load of pictures of, well, anything. I plan on getting a new, more battery-friendly camera (hopefully more portable, too), at which time I’ll probably go apeshit with the photos and start taking pictures of random shit again.