A Trash Can’s Tale

I think I ought to start with this story:

about a year ago, I wanted a trash can.

But not just any trash can. It had to be perfect.

I wanted a trashcan with two handles and a lid of metaphorical steel.

It had to be plastic, preferably black, no wheels required.

And I didn’t want it to have a bottom.

Because this trash can, my friends:

this trash can was going to be glorified.

It was going to be my Compost Bin.

One day shortly thereafter, the Boy and I were driving down the road. It was rainy and muddy and just generally disagreeable.

(Except for ducks. Ducks like rain and I like ducks. Somewhere there was a happy duck. So it wasn’t all bad.)

But I digress.

We were bouncing down the road in Rex, the Boy’s Jeep. And suddenly, by the side of the road, I saw it.

“STOP!” I shouted. “STOP, QUICK!”

The Boy stopped.

“WHAT IS WRONG?” he shouted, because I had startled him very much.

“THAT TRASH CAN. IT IS PUT OUT FOR TRASH, BECAUSE IT HAS NO BOTTOM. WHICH IS PERFECT, BECAUSE I NEED A TRASH CAN WITH NO BOTTOM. IT IS SO GREEN IT IS ALMOST BLACK AND IT HAS A HANDLE, AND I AM SURE I CAN FIND IT A NEW LID. IT IS NOT PERFECT, BUT I LOVE IT ANYWAY. AND IT MUST COME HOME WITH US. I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE MUD.”

This is how the compost bin came to live in the corner of my yard.

Advertisements

About November Jones

November Jones lives in a small but very colorful house with three cats and her very noisy partner, codename: Batman.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: