I guess you could call it a game that Furio and I used to play. Furio was my roommate my first two years of college, a random assignment that turned out golden. We had a hobby of not throwing out our trash in a timely fashion. Beside our mini-fridge and microwave were piles of discarded to-go boxes and freshly browned banana peels, all festering until someone gave in and walked the 50 feet to the trash chute. Usually I surrendered first. Actually I always gave in and threw out the trash, especially when I'd discover meat in one of the styrofoam boxes.
One night I walked through the door and saw something astonishing. On the other side of the room stood Furio, bent over picking up piles of trash. He was taking off toward the trash chute, throwing out our trash. I wondered if I had written "Pick up your own damn trash one of these days!" on our dry erase board and forgotten. I couldn't recall ever seeing Furio throw out the trash before. In fact, he hadn't even allowed the pile to accumulate to its usual 4 feet; it was barely half that.
There had to be a reason to this bizarro world I had entered, and there was. Some girl Furio had told me about was coming over to highlight his hair. She had never been to the dorm room, and Furio didn't want her to see that he slept beside a rotting pileup of discarded food. I knew that for him to throw out the trash for her, Anne had to be special.
Three years later, one of the most well-grounded couples I know are engaged to be married. They are two beautiful people who deserve to find joy and prosperity in this world with one another by their side. For Furio to fall in love with Anne, for Anne to fall in love with Furio, and for them decide to build one life together, it just makes sense. They have a glorious, exciting mystery ahead of them, and I'll be happy and honored to say I saw it from the beginning, when a sloppy, spikey-haired nineteen-year-old threw out the trash.
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