An Invisible Shield

I've recently discovered that I am the only one in the family able to penetrate the invisible field that surrounds our trash can.  I'm not sure who it was the placed the shield there, but he is no friend of mine!  (Yes, I'm certain it was a 'he'.)


Initially, it's hard to detect.  The family makes like it is going to throw something in the trash and then... OOPS!  It lands just beside the trash can.  I'm sure they try and try and try again to put the item in the trash can and are unsuccessful, so they just leave it as it lies.  I've never seen this happen; I'm just going to believe this is the case.

This trash dodging business has been around for as long as I've been the momma... no before that.  It's been the case for as long as I've been the wife!  I'm sure it happened when I was the girlfriend, but I was too much in love and probably didn't mind picking up the 425 Q-tips that surrounded the bathroom trash every week!

The family, because they cannot infiltrate the invisible shield over the trashcan, has given up hope.  They've chosen to not even try anymore!  Can you feel my pain, friends??

Imagine my dilemma as I just picked up no less than 15 dozen candy wrappers ... which were all still in the candy bowl!  Imagine my frizzled hair as I picked up can after empty can of hair mousse one morning as I was running late!  Imagine my absolute disdain to discover that the last cheese stick has been eaten, but the cheese stick wrapper is still in the fridge!

It's rough being the only one in the house that can actually put something INTO the trash can... not just beside the trash can... not just think about putting something in the trash can... but actually get the trash into the trash can!

Last week after picking up the apple cores (yes - plural - more than one core!), I lost it.  I forgot what a complete gift I possessed being the only one who can dispose of litter properly and went three degrees of postal between episodes of "Good Luck, Charlie".

"Why," I shouted with the cores in raised hands and my head facing directly up at our glitter-flecked ceiling in an effort to look dramatic, "Why am I the only one in this house who can pick trash up and put it IN the trash can?"

Daughter 1 pleaded the International Kid Plea: "It wasn't me, Momma!"

Daughter 2 played the brown-noser role:  "I thought you liked to do that, Momma.  I was only trying to make you happy!"  (This kid will go far, people!  She'll be the first female head of some mafia family - and we're not even Italian!)

One of these is full; one is empty.
The trash can?  It's directly below these
containers!

But, it's not just The Daughters.  It's The Dad as well.  Oh, he's a big boy and he knows to throw away his snack-sized snicker wrappers (because he thinks if he throws them away, I'll never know about them), but he doesn't think to throw away the big stuff like completely empty containers of hair mousse or dried-out, totally empty face wash tubs and absolutely drained dry fountain drink cups (in the plastic, not Styrofoam, containers).

One night as I prepared to wash my face and opened the crusty, dried-out face wash, I heaved a huge sigh.  "Why," I whimpered, "is the empty container still in the cabinet?  And why are you saving the mousse containers?  Can't you just put them in the trash can?"

"Honey," he scrambled, "it wasn't me besides I thought you'd want me to save them.  I'm only trying to make you happy!"

"Why would I want to save them?" I countered as I stood right beside him with my dirty face as he lounged in bed eating a snack-sized Snickers.

"Ummm..." he stammered, "Wanna bite?  I'll even let you sleep in tomorrow!"

Ahhh - he is only trying to make me happy!