Dump Fetish

You have a dump fetish, You enjoy going to dump your trash three times a week because you're itching to see what other people have left on the side by the paper bin - the "claim me" section. You found a patinated 1920s composition and rag doll there recently, in her original clothes, faded to sepia and ivory. In the past, you found a metal 1930s Deco meets Nouveau Salmagundi Whitman metal candy box.

I look forward to a guided tour of your found finery. Maybe, if you want to convert your apartment into a museum of the uncollectible, you could attach little labels to each object, and a short fabricated history of each. Any history will do, as long as it's amusing.
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If I clean the mess here, I'll probably have to buy a 15th pair of scissors. And my cats might not recognize the place as home; they're used to slob heaven. I succeed where even hurricanes fail; I'm congenitally incapable of neatness; when I walk, I unleash every demon of chaos in the universe.

You'd get to see the mural I painted in the hallway, especially the picture of one cat sniffing another cat's butt (Who says that I don't paint "realism"?). Then you'd get to sniff the tantalizing aromas of Friskies' tuna delight, mixed with the heady perfume of paint thinner and the grit of airborn plaster dust. Who knows? - This "Mystique Melange" might be marketable as a perfume - the hottest thing out of France. Or maybe, Iraq.
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When I first rented near here, I left a legacy for the landlord. I was renting a 1 floor cottage composed of one huge room and a tiny kitchen and bathroom. There was a drop down ladder leading to a "crawl around" attic with fiberglass flooring. So, I stuck a really hideous clay head I'd made (and painted) up there, surrounded by fiberglass - like a corpse's head sticking up out of all the muck. The hideous clay head was gaunt and pale, making it look almost like a skeleton. I figured that, possibly, no one would look in that useless attic for years, then wonder where this mysterious lone artifact had come from.

Your landlord was not as understanding of the typewriter you'd epoxied onto the porch roof. No one would notice for a long, long time....you'd thought----- You'd planned to sprinkle mud on the porch roof, then seed it with something that grows anywhere, maybe blow dandilion fluff over the whole expanse. Come spring, you could ride down the street, and see saplings, violets, crabgrass, a whole garden of weeds, growing wildly above the top tier of windows! And shrug, call the floral showcase a freak of nature.

You've thought about filching public restroom signs (One of those male/female figures would be ideal to hang on your front door). You also want a "please don't feed the fish sign, to hang on your toilet, above the drain where algea thrive. Anything to create a showcase home. So far, though, you've only painted catfish on the insides of your toilet bowl - with waterproof paint, of course.