A Preposterous Pile

I don't always wait until the last minute to accomplish a task, but when I do, it's almost guaranteed that the weather will be cold and windy. So. After making mental notes all winter as to which stuff ought to be consigned to the curb for the city's annual clean-up, I discovered that they start picking up said stuff tomorrow. Tomorrow! A quick check in and around the garden shed, the basement and the garage produced these choice items. I wasn't quick enough to capture them in the act, but it was only little more than an hour later that two women hopped out of an already overflowing pickup to claim the rickety white bench. I wish them the best of luck in shoring it up for use as the wood is the consistency of something between a mushroom and aged chewing gum stuck to the underside of a table.