Honestly??? The Place Got Trashed???

Yesterday I took out the trash without being asked. I know! The bag broke, I slipped on a banana peel and knocked over the gas can. My keys fell out creating a spark and burned the house to the ground. Guys, be strong. Taking out the trash is very risky and you must protect your family! Besides, that’s why God invented kids.

I don’t know why taking out the trash seems like such a nasty chore but it is, at least for me. It is really quite the quick process. Remove the bag from the can, pull on the plastic straps, walk out and put the bag in the large trash can. Then insert a new bag and you’re done. Easy peasy.

So why do I despise it so much? I think it’s because when I put the can back under the sink with the bag empty there is a fleeting sense that all is right with the world. The next time I throw something away, the bag is nearly spilling over again and I swear it’s only been 10 minutes!

Seriously, how can two people and two toy schnauzers generate so much trash so quickly? I don’t get it. I make my wife’s lunch by opening a bag of mixed salad, the top of the bag going in the trash. I boiled two eggs for her, emptying one carton. Trash. I cooked a breakfast Lean Pocket which emptied the box plus throwing out the wrapper and heating sleeve.

Ok, I think I’m understanding this dilemma more now. It makes sense. There are only two alternatives. 1) eat out for every meal 2) train the dogs to take out the trash. I think option two is best because who can afford to eat out every meal? I know the dogs are small but if a group of huskies can pull a sled across Alaska, these two can do a few things around the house.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get in touch with Caesar Millan, the dog whisperer.

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