Friday already? Or, I'm dancing as fast as I can.

Hey, so yesterday's entry had a point, and this one doesn't. Tough. You clicks your links and you takes your chances, people.

1. OK, Blackbird's show and tell Thursday--late, as usual. My street:

More accurately, a small portion of the many cubic yards 'o' crap I hauled to the curb this week for our annual Trash Week extravaganza. This is the week where the village hauls away--for free--anything that two reasonably strong men can load onto the back of a truck.

Naturally, this is a highly-anticipated event. I spent a week getting ready. That garage I cleaned out last Saturday was just part of my strategy.

Some of the stuff that people put out is great. Mostly ours has been embarrassingly trash-like, what with the stuff the previous owners left behind, like chicken wire and broken storm windows and such.

But this year we had, in addition to the usual mountain of big cardboard boxes and Styrofoam wine bottle inserts (because That Stud Muffin I Married persists in ordering wine over the internet) veritable treasures! Such as a mahogany dining room table that I eBayed, my son's almost-brand-new yet vastly overgrown bicycle, scads of outgrown toys, etc.

All that's long gone. What you're seeing here is the second wave. I'm particularly pleased to have gotten rid of that broken-up, basically useless chest of drawers that has been in the basement for eight years, also those two wobbly kichen stools, and a bunch of baby clothes (so my youngest is nine, and I had boxes of old baby clothes--so sue me.)

The trashpickers have come and gone. They start on Sunday, when the savvy homeowners start putting out their nicest trash. The dining room table and the bicycle lasted five minutes before they were swooped upon and taken. (In case you're wondering, swoopers, yes, I do know what that stuff is worth, and no, really. I just wanted it gone.)

Right now, I'm ecstatic. Not only has the village hauled away half a dumpster's worth of crap, the garbage man has come, the recycling man has come, and Purple Heart took eight shopping bags of children's clothes and toys from my doorstep. My house has lost about 600 pounds.

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It's Loretta's list Friday. So here are ten jobs I'd like to have:

1. CEO of Estee Lauder
2. Photographer
3. Non-chain coffee house proprietor
4. Landscape designer
5. Courtesan
6. Ne'er do well
7. Interior decorator
8. Librarian
9. Auctioneer
10. Author of etiquette books

I like to think that with the exception of 3 and 9, I put my blog(s) to good use in dipping somewhat into the other professions. (Especially courtesan. "How was your day, honey?" she asked, offering her readers a martini and a backrub.)

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My Thursday 13--oh, fuzz it, I'm late again--it will have to wait until next week.

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My tenant! Is the Rock Bitch. She's a Stones fan/student/mother/cancer survivor/pottymouth, the owner of www.clusterfook.com, and she invented Get Drunk Friday. Her blog is well worth reading. Go on, check it out before she changes her template or her domain or whatever. Go!