Local...trash.

We live in a lovely neighborhood just west of Soho and south of the West Village. Some folks call it Hudson Square others call it West Soho....we call it home. Unfortunately its also home to trash. Bucolic as it may be, it's still NYC and there's still plenty o'garbage to be jumped over and pranced around.

This morning we went for a cup of coffee at our favorite new neighborhood spot, Local. If you haven't been to Local, its probably cause you're not one...or you walked past the bolthole-sized shop without noticing it. The coffee is the best we've had since we were studying pharmacology in Colombia. It's reasonably priced, comes with a smile and can be paired with a delightful list of finger food, like fig and mozzarella sandwiches and an out of this world zucchini bread.

But, as expected, along our leisurely morning stroll we spotted not one, but two heinous mounds of trash - spread across the street like a Jackson Pollock canvas. How does this happen? A) some cat-size rats had a field day and pre-dawn snack or b) about 65 people missed the trashcan by 2 to 35 feet. We can't really fathom why this happened but it seems to occur every day somewhere in the city. Maybe we need locks on cans? Maybe we need to pick-up trash every day, rather than two-to-three times a week? Maybe...maybe...maybe.

We're depressed...going to get drinks at Blue Ribbon Wine Bar. Give a hoot...