I am cleaning out the garage.
I took an old plastic Christmas tree spilling out of its box and put it on the floor in the center.
I took a half-constructed cabinet, that never got fully-constructed because it was missing some parts, and laid it down in the center.
I took boxes of old broken kitchen appliances and placed them in the center.
I took a rickety, dirty toddler saucer and put it in the center.
Some water-damaged ceiling tiles. A lawn bag of old yard waste whose bottom fell out when I picked it up. Soiled cardboard.
Tomorrow is garbage day.
On Monday and today I have gone to the garage to get my bike, to ride to the train I take to work.
Monday, outside the garage's side door, I found a dead mouse. I kicked it aside into some weeds near the garage.
This morning, I saw another mouse. I assume it's a different mouse, and not the same mouse moved by the ants that were crawling all over it on Monday.
I kicked this second mouse (or first mouse that resumed its former position) where I kicked the other/same mouse before.
Tonight, I take heavy-duty garbage bags and waste stickers, collect the garbage from the center of the garage and dump it all to the back alley.
I'll wear gloves. I'll look for dead mice.
Here, a movie Stan Brakhage made about his dog's corpse decaying.