Fresh Garbage

No, this post is not about the crap coming out of Trump’s mouth, although I do think he has a lot to answer for with this latest charity flap. You may have noticed that I’m not writing much about the election lately. It’s almost too much to handle.  This is the worst election ever.  The worst candidate ever and a person running against him that I’m only voting for because he’s the worst candidate ever.  Anyway, this post is not about that.

It’s about garbage bags. Seriously.  The lovely Missus bought the cheapest, thinnest, most awful garbage bags known to man and I hate them with every fiber of my being.  They’re actually affecting my quality of life at this point.  It’s a running joke right now in our house.  I was emptying the garbage yesterday and cursing in my head as I’m trying to get a full, heavy,  bag of garbage out of the can without the whole thing tearing and the Missus is just laughing at me because she knows I’m annoyed, even though I didn’t voice it.

We divvy up the household tasks like most couples do and we jokingly call them boys jobs and girl jobs.  Taking out the garbage is generally a boy job in our house.  I can only assume that, in the seven years that we’ve lived together, the Missus has never bought the garbage bags before.  I mean these things are as thin as plastic can possibly get.  The worst part of all?  There are no draw strings!  Seriously.  Why are garbage bags without draw strings even allowed to exist? They’re a pox on humanity. And for the love of fictional god, they should all be reinforced too.

That’s all for today.  Carry on.

Fresh garbage
Fresh garbage

Look beneath your lid some morning,
See those things you didn’t quite consume
The world’s a can for your fresh garbage

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