Murder She Wrote

So as of late I've been rummaging through 8 years of crap former JETs have left abandoned in my house, hoping to hit the jackpot. I thought I was almost there when I discovered purple leg warmers in the guest room closet. But just you wait, it gets better. Amidst all the reruns of Friends and Sex and the City, and really shitty movies-Grease 2 (who knew there was a sequel?), and A Fish Named Wanda, I ran across 12 tapes of nonstop Murder She Wrote. Yup, it's a perpetual Murder She Wrote-a-thon here in Japan. Okay, so let's suspend reality here for a moment and pretend that this was a popular show back in the day, which it wasn't, and that Angela Lansbury is talented, which she's not. Even so, WHO STILL WATCHES MURDER SHE WROTE????? Raise your hands.....seriously. Why can't I get left something good? Who were these mysterious JETs who left behind years of birth control, prune extract (?), tapes of themselves on vacation in Montana (if that can technically be called vacation,) and 27 types of decaf tea? Made me question what kind of person people will assume I am based upon the personal possessions I'll chuck in the house when it comes time to repack the antichrist of all luggage.

The worst bit of it all, besides mental images of Angela Lansbury, was trying to comprehend the enigma that is Japanese recycling. Recycling anything that is recyclable is mandatory, and evidently the trash collectors sift through your trash, which must be labeled with your name, and if they discover anything of recyclable capabilities they yell at you...sounds fun right? So Jennie, my predecessor, left behind all kinds of questionable food that I will never go near- and yet I am somehow the one responsible for cleaning out all of her leftover containers and flipping through my dictionary to try and discover which bin the varying sizes of plastic bottles belong in. That includes emptying out a U.S. army size container of Jiffy! Now the whole house reeks and I want to vomit. : (