The Trash Can

Dave’s favorite Christmas present this year came from me.

Yep.  I bought him the hideous, plastic kitchen trash can. 

To replace my lovely stainless steel one.  With the foot pedal. 

You see, nobody in the house could figure out how to put in a new liner.  Except for me.

For two years I had heard nothing but complaints about that trash can. 

“It’s not that complicated,” I’d explain for the umpteenth time.  “You just tighten the bag around the top and then push the ties through the hole.”
Unfortunately, Dave and Linda were in the “special class.” 

They refused to deal with it.  I’d come home to this:

And this:

Then one day I noticed a plastic grocery bag sitting on the kitchen counter.  With trash in it.

“Ugh!  What is this??”

“Oh.  Your trash can was full and I couldn’t replace the bag.”

Somehow, it had become “my” trash can.  (Kind of like how Kevin is my dog when he’s naughty.)

I gave up.  You can’t train chimpanzees to jump on pogo sticks.  Similarly, you can’t train Dave and Linda to replace trash can liners in my perfectly functional and attractive stainless steel kitchen trash can.

Several weeks before Christmas I began my search for a replacement kitchen trash can.  I came home empty handed every time.   I just couldn’t bring myself to buy one.

I loved my trash can.  

On December 23rd I stood in front of an entire wall of trash cans at Bed, Bath and Beyond, a blue 20% off postcard dangling from my fingers. 

Not one of the twenty-seven trash cans on display looked better than my loyal trash can with the foot pedal.

And they all had the same sort of replacement bag system, which requires tightening the liner and pushing the ties through a hole. 

Except, of course, the (gulp) plastic ones.

I began hyperventilating. 

I called Kimmy.  “I can’t do it!”
“Can’t do what?”
“Buy a new kitchen trash can,” I said, my voice raising an octave.  
“Why not?”
“I need your help!!!” I wailed as I ran out of the store, the postcard fluttering to the ground where it landed in a cold dark puddle.  

Kimmy promised to go to Walmart with me the next day.

Christmas Eve at Walmart was a cacophony of craziness.  Last minute shoppers crowded every aisle buying gifts for their loved ones and hunting friends.  Thankfully, we were the only ones buying a last minute kitchen trash can.

“Look they all have the same replacement bag system!” I stated.  “The system that your Dad can’t master.” 

“Not the plastic ones,” Kimmy observed.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Suck it up, Mom.  This is for Dad, not you.”

We picked out a very ugly black plastic kitchen trash can.  

Kevin could replace its liners if he had opposable thumbs. 

The rest is history.

Except for one thing.  Dave can’t figure out how to fit the cover on the trash can over the liner.

And I’m not helping.