Literally, at first. Looks like a dog had gotten into this house's backyard and taken a dump; I found it while taking recycling out to the big bin. The waste was right in the way of where you often have to walk back there, so I resisted my first urge to ignore it and went inside to get toilet paper. I made sure to remove the rocks that were stuck to the waste (DEAR GOD DO NOT FLUSH ROCKS), carried it inside without touching anything with my hands, flushed it, then washed my hands thoroughly.
Later was a nicer and more manageable cleanup: that afternoon while walking in the nearby park, I saw some trash on the grass, and realized part of the trash was a plastic bag. An intact, unused bag. IT COULD HOLD OTHER TRASH. So I went around and picked up plastic bag remains, discarded drink box straws, an entire small hand towel, and some cigarette butts. I almost said "lots of," but you only ever get a fraction of all the cigarette butts that are out there. After several minutes gathering, I threw that away and washed my hands in the community center restroom. Trash can be filthy. You don't know where it's been. Except the shit earlier.
...I will not make a habit of swearing in this blog, but this time it seemed apt.