Eyes -- and wheels -- were rolling this morning at 7th and Montana as an Anonymous Garbage Collector made the scene pushing a suitcase filled with trash. Mind you, it wasn't just any trash ... it was mine. Early this morning, the Collector -- a man in his mid fifties -- was fishing through the garbage bin behind my condo, plucking out various items of interest and slipping them into his suitcase. By 7:30, he had wheeled his way to Starbucks and his suitcase was practically bursting at the seams. My trash from last night seemed to be peeking out at me, waving goodbye. I've heard that "one man's trash is another man's treasure" but, in my case, let me assure you, it's trash. I carefully shred anything that has my name or any other personally identifiable information on it, and I recycle anything that can be recycled. That leaves mostly "wet trash," the kind of stuff I'd rather not put down the Garbage Disposal. Who knows, maybe he has a lab somewhere and is secretly converting it all to gasoline ...!