Back, and complaining already...

Back in the states again, and logging in to my poor, neglected blog after all these long months. If you know me, you know that we're happily settled in Boston with new jobs, a new apartment and even a small, white dog to complete the picture. Newton was named after the famous Sir Isaac. He doesn't exactly live up to his namesake in the intelligence department, but he's extra cuddly, so I let it slide.

The beauty of blogging to an audience of none: no explanation for my absence, or these changes listed above, is necessary. Therefore, I will jump headlong into my blog once again. This time, I hope it will be with a more disciplined posting schedule.

Another perk of having no followers: no one minds what I say. In light of this, I will be saying any and every thought which illuminates the inner caverns and pathways of my pretty little head. Ah, freedom! Another word for "no one cares."

Let me begin, then, by complaining. As a new resident to the metamorphosing neighborhood of East Boston (or Eastie, to those who frequent such haunts as Trainor's or Kelly's Square Pub), I am shocked and appalled at the state of the neighborhood's trash collection practices.

The problem is, residents are encouraged to leave their bags of trash on the ground the night before trash collection day. Dirty. And the filth is then compounded by the fact that East Boston is infamous for its skunk population. I'm sure I don't need to describe the scenes of garbage carnage and destruction one witnesses the following morning. Yesterday, I stepped over a stinking tray of discarded chicken fat, covered in flies and maggots.

What really shocks me, however, is the simplicity of the solution: trash bins. A trash bin, with a proper lid, would reduce litter, render street sweeping almost unnecessary and relieve the citizens of East Boston from the horrors of a putrid, reeking river of trash each Tuesday morning as they walk to work.

I intend to solve all social ills on the blog. Check back frequently.