That's a Bunch of Garbage -- Really?

Dear friends, family, and yet-to-be-friends, did any of you read about the guy who found a winning lotto ticket in the trash?  I did.  And it makes me wonder about what else he found.  "Where are my latex gloves when I need them..."  See, when I go digging through trash -- I try not to make it a habit -- I tend to find squiggly, wiggly things that appear to be alive... "Kids, we're going fishing today!" (don't knock it, it's quality time)  While I'm on the subject of trash, it sure would be nice if the kids took it out once in awhile.  "Quick! -- I hear the garbage truck!"  My kids are fully capable of helping, from what I can tell.  "In a minute, Dad..." Ah, that elusive minute... "I'm tired, Dad." Yeah, from resting too much.  And then there's: "I would, Dad, but child-labor laws prevent me from doing so."  (great, a future lawyer in the family) Beside fish bait, something else I discover in our trash bin are clothes.  My clothes.  Clothes I still plan to wear.  I won't point my finger at anyone specifically -- my wife -- but I don't think it's very nice, to dump my favorite clothes like a bag of  half-eaten leftovers.  "Hey, that's my good-luck shirt!"  And please, don't go saying that I haven't worn my "I Love AOL" Tee for the past ten years.  That's irrelevant.  And so are the holes.  "I only wear certain articles of clothing on a special occasions, okay?"  That reminds me, I may just have to sneak a peek in my neighbor's trash bin.  He wears pants about about my size.   "That's gross."  Hey, easy on the criticism.  It sure beats going to the mall during the holidays.  Live and let live is what I say -- and leave my clothes alone!  By the way, "Has anyone seen my 'World Champion Dodgers' sweatshirt?"  What's so funny?  It's only 23-years-old...