There’s a toilet on Lake Street. I don’t mean a porta-potty or even someone’s wide-open house with the bathroom in plain sight. No, I mean a toilet, a commode, the standard sit-down model. I’ve been watching to see how long it will sit there, at the end of a driveway, along with some old carpeting, just waiting for pick up.

At least, I think that’s what is happening, because since this is my first spring as an Auburn resident, there are lots of details I don’t understand yet.

But I’ve noticed stacks of stuff out at the end of driveways. Mostly, I see cuttings from trees and bushes. But also broken chairs, even a refrigerator door and lots of nondescript items plainly of no use to anyone. I guess it’s spring cleanup and the public works department is on the job.

When I moved to Auburn a year ago, I met the Public Works Department right away. It was when I put out my moving boxes. After years in a Florida condo association, I was used to limits on how much could be disposed of in any given week. So, in Auburn, I put out only a few boxes, carefully flattened, stacked and tied with twine. My Florida training.

But when the Auburn public works showed up, it was a better story. The guy on the truck slung my little pile of cardboard into his truck, grinned at me and asked, “That all you got?”

“Well, no, I just moved in. I’ve got lots of boxes.”

“Want to get rid of ’em?”

“Sure.”

“Where you got ’em?”

“In the garage.”

Then, to my utter amazement and never-ending gratitude, he marched into my open garage, seized a handful of empty boxes and tossed them into the truck. “More?”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. “Thank you.”

“No problem. That’s what we’re here for.” And he drove off.

Public Works Department. You’ve got a fan here. And I don’t care when you pick up that toilet. Because I know you will. And probably with a flourishing flush.

Sara Anderson lives in Auburn.

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