Trashed Can
Trashed Can
My city of residence just gifted its denizens sleek new trash cans. As rubbish bins go, mine is the cat’s meow: neon green cabriolets with glossy black treaded tires the diameter of dinner plates. When the day came to dump my old bin, I realized that I had no clue how to accomplish that goal. I mean, how on Earth do I tell the trash man to trash my trashcan in addition to my trashcan’s contents? Sure, I could tape a note to it, but South Florida’s vitriolic summer elements would surely bleach it, soak it, or whisk it away (likely within minutes). I tried cramming the old can into its usurper, but the old can bottomed out ¾ths of the way down. See, larger wheels demand larger wheel wells. In short, my tricked out new trash can’s aesthetic upgrade came at the expense of utilitarian profundity.