While on my way home this morning, I saw something I don't normally see at the gigantic trash drop-off at the front of my apartment complex: policemen. Lots of them. About 4 huddled around a spot at the base of the trash area. If I could actually see what they were huddled around, this would be more interesting, however, I couldn't slow up enough to look inconspicuous.
Within the hour that I was home, three police cars and one "Technical Investigation" vehicle made it's way around the complex. On my way out of the complex, at the spot of the engrossed policemen, was a Hazardous Materials truck with one guy. He wasn't dressed in the full-body spaceman suit that I'd come to expect from watching ET too many times, but merely in a coat and officer's uniform. Despite material so hazardous it apparently warranted a whole truck, the man was using a mortal's tool to clean it up: a broom.
It wasn't until four hours later when my boyfriend called me at work that I found out what actually happened. A man died there. Well, died might be too passive a verb for the situation. More like was violently shot to death when he pointed his fun, not the machete he was also carrying, at a cop. It was a domestic violence situation that now has me a little more cautious around the white trash couple upstairs.
On a sidenote of things that are furry and not worth cleaning up: Jonathan and Victoria were FINALLY eliminated from the Amazing Race. My joy cannot be contained.
Here's a tip for you: ketchup packets don't last longer than 6 months. After that, the ketchup inside becomes this odd cocktail / barbeque sauce hybrid.
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