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I am the latest victim of a hit & run. Well, not me. Not my car either. Read on.

We live on a fairly curvy country road, on which the posted speed limit is 35mph. Many people read that backwards, though.

Anyway, I'm getting the boys ready for bed when I hear a car drive by and loud noise. I think maybe the local walk-all-over-the-road dog was hit, so I peer out between the mini blinds to see what I can see (see, see).

My garbage can. Which is not actually mine, it came with the house we rent. But still. It had my trash in it. It's lying on its side about three or four feet from its original spot, bag spilling out. The lid is a good six feet (maybe more) from it.

I really hope that its not broken (I haven't been out to check yet, bedtime prep is still on). It would not be cool to either have no garbage can or to buy a new can when we're only going to be here a couple more weeks (the new house comes with garbage and recycling cans, with wheels!).

I just texted Bryan to tell him to bring his forensics kit home. Maybe we can get some paint transfer to analyze. There may be tire impressions in the soil next to the road. Who knows.

I'm a little sorry I didn't have the blinds open to see the perpetrator, but maybe carelessness is its own reward and they have a little dent in their bumper to remember me by.