Trash pickup is Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. The days were posted on a sign above the collection site - I just never looked closely enough to notice. Since I can only read a limited amount of kanji, my brain doesn’t immediately interpret the scratchings as useful information. It’s like some vandal savant came along and painted the streets with abstract art.

Apparently, I’m supposed to write my address on my trash bags before releasing them to the wild. That way, the garbage police can track me down and deport me for mistakenly placing a banana peel in the “unburnable” bag or a plastic bottle in the “small, sort of shiny but not quite, light colored plastic tray” bag. Unfortunately, I still haven’t nailed down my exact address (I’ve figured out bits and pieces), so I guess I’ll just sneak down to the collection site in the middle of the night, drop my bags, and run like hell.

I’ve also figured out the mechanics of my little washing machine (that is, I pushed a bunch of buttons and observed what happened in response - very scientific, I know). I’m on my third load now and have yet to destroy any clothes, so I suppose I’m in the clear.