We therefore, need - not want, need - a trash can with a lid. And a tall one, because I challenge anyone in our neighborhood to produce more trash than we do. (We also hold the Foulest Smelling Trash title, three years running. Go Team Naptime!!) My friend Kimberly lives in Seattle and there, if you put more trash on your curb than can fit into this itty bitty trash can, they fine you.
They fine you, y'all. As in money. We would so have to move.
Required: a tall trashcan with a lid, heavy enough to not be knocked over by a toddler, and pretty enough to sit out all the time. Do you know how much tall, lidded, stainless steel trashcans run? Look here and prepare to gasp audibly. Who on earth can justify charging over $100 for a place to put your coffee grounds and stinky diapers? Honestly?? Who thinks that way?
So last year when I saw this one at Costco for around $40, I grabbed it. It had a lid that looked pretty childproof. It had an infrared sensor and opened automatically to receive your deposit. Cool, huh?
Yeah, the first couple of days. But turns out he was a little hypersensitive, so every time I would walk by, he'd open wide his gaping mouth. I felt like Seymour. Pass by the trashcan - we'll call him Audrey 3 - on the way to the pantry, FEED ME. Sweep near him - FEED ME. He was hungry every time he saw me. If I did not dump in an apple core or some potato skins, I felt a little guilty.
I am a mother of four. I have enough guilt without my trashcan laying it on. When Audrey's batteries ran out, I did not replace them.
Well, then he went the opposite. Anorexia. Didn't want to eat at all. I had to pry open his mouth to get anything in there. Whatever, forty bucks, whatever.
Despite his melodramatic eating disorders, Audrey 3 did his job and kept the kids out of the garbage.
Until...Hurricane Ike learned to walk. Ike would knock the tight fitting, heavy lid off into the trash can regularly. Fasting had zapped Audrey's strength - he was just too weak to resist.
Now, the lid is gone. Gone. I can only speculate that Ike knocked it into the bag, and it somehow got overlooked and thrown away.
Yes. Audrey 3 committed suicide.
So now we are back to square one, a headless, gaping, always overflowing trashcan in the middle of my kitchen floor.
And Ike is in dumpster diving heaven. Which leads to lots of coffee grounds on the floor, and scenes like this.