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help us. Still, by the end of the week we only had 12 labels. I figured, at that rate, Celese would be married with children of her own before we’d have enough. But that night, as I took our garbage out to throw it into the dumpster, I saw something that gave me an idea. There, right on top, was a soup can. I found an old step stool and stood on it while I carefully sorted through the garbage. By the time I finished I had 32 more labels. When I brought them into our apartment, Donna mentioned that there were other apartment buildings that each had a dumpster. Grabbing my step stool, I went from one to the next, like a racoon rummaging for food. By the end of the night I had collected dozens of labels. Each night after that, as soon as I arrived home from school and work, I went label hunting. The deadline to have them mailed in was two weeks before Christmas, and the night before, I sat down to tally my collection. I was disappointed to find that I was 36 labels short. But, there was one apartment I never went to. It was about a quarter mile away, and 18