Samat carefully trimmed the dead flowers of his jasmine plant. He snipped for a few minutes and then gathered the aromatic buds and added them to his bowl of potpourri. He grabbed his mop from the closet and methodically mopped all 500 square feet of tile and floorboard in his apartment with newly-purchased, extra-strength, lemon-scented cleaner. Samat took a deep breath through his nose while looking around for more to do before dealing with the trash. He lit candles and incense arranged indiscriminately around the living room, but he couldn’t put it off any longer he had to carry out the chore he loathed most. He had been tightly tying up the bags then placing them in another bag which he also sealed securely; most of his neighbors lacked this foresight and others still weren’t showing such consideration. The waste collectors were into their third week on strike. Samat held his breath and sprinted outside, down to the end of the lot where he tossed his bag onto the heap and hoped it wouldn’t cause an avalanche.