Recycling Can Kill You

I'm so happy that my lovely city has a recycling program. At first, I thought having this huge can on wheels was cool. I mean, you don't have to drag it down the driveway (and that's what I would do as those papers, cans and bottles can get heavy).
But after living in my house for a few weeks, I didn't think it was worth it to drag the big can to the curb every week. So, I wait until it's mostly full.
Here's the hazard: I take my dog out when I take out the trash. The last time I took out the recycling, he took off after a neighborhood cat. I tried to hold onto his leash, but the weight of the full bin was pulling me down the driveway quickly. I had to make a split decision: let go of the leash and gain control of the bin or hold onto the leash and fall down.

I let go of the leash. Charley didn't go far. I was back in control of the bin. I got it to the curb. I picked up the leash. And then I realized I could have killed myself for that multi-tasking. I know, I know. I could leave the dog inside to make that whole taking out the trash bit easier. But Charley really likes going out in the front yard. And he's so nice I hate to disappoint him. My other alternative is to stop recycling. Or I suppose I could take down the bin when it's less full (but that hardly seems worth it).

However, one of these days you might not hear from me. If you know where I live, please come by and see if I'm dead in the driveway.