This is part of the Frank said feature. You can see more here.
Often in our old neighborhood there would be litter. Sometimes on garbage night, there would be rogue bags that fell off piles and into the street. One night we got home and had this conversation:
Me: Babe, careful there’s a [small] bag of garbage there.
Frank: [Shrugging as we hear a crunch] Sometimes you run over garbage, that’s life.