The other night, I was taking out the kitchen trash, which is a disturbingly frequent occurrence with us. Our carbon footprint is like a size 465 in man shoes. It’s bad. At any rate, it actually needs to be taken out daily, but consistently goes to the end of the second day because every last one of us is hoping someone else will take it out. Until they do, we continue to shove another paper plate on top of the already flush pile and hope the plate’s contents do not spill over onto the floor. But no worries if it spills. Mom will mop it up.
Soooooooo anyway. I was standing at the trashcan replacing the bag and uttered with confidence, “Is there anything more hopeful than a brand new trash bag?”
I didn’t want an answer. Unless the answer was, “No, I think a fresh trash bag is the best thing ever.” Or something like that.
It was really just a statement. But it was my mistake in putting it forth as a question. I make that mistake daily in things like “Would you go brush your teeth?” when obviously what I mean is “brush your teeth this moment or I’m calling the police.”
When I asked the question, Todd furrowed his brow and said, “YES. How about a newborn baby?”
I dropped my head in shame. How could I put my fresh trash can liner up against a cooing newborn baby? Good grief.
I didn’t respond. Clearly, he had trumped me and there was no response to make. But then I started thinking about it.
Trash bags don’t ever argue with me as I am shaking them out and putting them into the can. Newborn babies don’t stay fresh and innocent for very long. They grow. And when they grow, they fuss. And sometimes, you’ll look down at 7:30, 13 seconds before walking out the door to school, and the grown newborn baby has ripped off her shoes and is standing in the kitchen half naked having a sock texture crisis. That’s never happened to my trash bag.
Sometimes that grown newborn will turn the house UPSIDE DOWN looking for the very crucial binder that he DEFINITELY brought home only to find it in the hallway at school the next morning. My trash bag never loses anything.
And sometimes, that big baby will grab my shirt just in time to catch their sneeze with it.
Or complain about what I made for dinner. Or pick a fight with another one of the oversized newborns in the house. Or place a bloody tooth, freshly pulled, on my white comforter so they can take a picture of it to text other family members.
My trash bags never do any of that.
So while I hung my head in shame right at first, upon further consideration, I proudly stand by my opinion. A fresh trash bag is the best thing ever.
But if you think about it, newborns and new trash bags are really pretty similar. They both start out fresh, pretty, and good-smelling. But at the end, they are both full up with garbage.