Classy Trashy

Not long ago I found an empty tin of sardines next to a newspaper on the seats for the inbound Q. It never occurred to me to grab the salty fish at the start of my day, down a few minnows and hop on the rail to work. I made a mental note of it, and was reminded on Election morning by a similarly surprising

It wasn't a trash day, and there were no litter bags nearby, opened or otherwise. The offending item had not been there the previously evening. (The Q has been self-appointed the Sidewalk Litter Sheriff for my quarter of a block.) Yet, nestled against the ivy, was this item, seemingly tossed in the manner of so many fast food wrappers:

Could it be that some pedestrian was mixing a Kale Caesar Salad right at my front gate? Was someone eating the Organic Valley Parmesan Cheese directly from the package? Did the top flip off of a health conscious shoppers cheese en route to a pasta dinner?

I'll never know for sure. But my eyes are now peeled for any more signs of this strangely selfish grass-fed litterbug.