Oh, how I love Berkeley. The weather, the food, and the unreasonable habit the residents have of putting their stuff on the curb with a handwritten “free” sign.
For miles around, Berkeley inhabitants clean out their homes and garages and, instead of selling things on craigslist, formally freecycling them, throwing them away, or giving them to charity, my neighbors just put everything on the curb.
I’ve found brand new shoes for the boys. Furniture. Half eaten jars of salsa. (I didn’t say everything they put out is desirable. I’m just illustrating the “they put out *everything*” argument with a swear-to-god true story.) A fully functioning television. A sweater covered in green paint.
Butter made a find of the century last week, though.
So their education is complete. Peanut’s class got to listen to records on a turntable and Butter liberated his first floppy disk.
Good times, Twenty-First Century. Good times.