So, apparently there's some decree that says you shouldn't worship false idols. Sorry, Marjory the Trash Heap. We've had a good run.
When I was lost and seeking answers you told me: "I'm orange peels, I'm coffee grounds, I'm wisdom!" I only recently came to call you "Marjory", before I felt more comfortable with the more formal "Madame Trash Heap" or "Your Trashiness". I recall when you first told me "Bring me your troubles, bring me your pain, bring me your woe" in an erratic Eastern European accent. Sometimes your advice didn't quite make sense to me like when I asked about a problem at work and you told me "You can't do that without a hat". Marjory, you were garbage, but you were never trash.