Man, Oh Man....You've Got a Lovely Can!

I'm not a big fan of the PCS process. Never mind all of the well-known reasons Chinese water torture may be preferable to a PCS move, I've got one more. And it's a yucky one. And it's one I'm only reminded of when we move. Then, perhaps because of its sheer yuckiness, I tuck it away in that scary space between my ears and don't think about it again until it's time to move.

And it's time to move.

I sometimes attempt to play Martha Stewart on the internet, but in reality, I'm anything but. Move-out cleaning is only too happy to remind me of this. I move the refrigerator out of its comfortable spot and stand there, mouth wide open, and alternate between marvel and disgust at the pile of dust and debris which has taken up residence underneath the object which provides me with nutrition each and every day. Then the movers come and begin removing furniture. And I discover that watch that I lost two years ago has been having a covert affair with dust balls under the bed. You should see them, all tangled up and such. And then I find there are particles of uneaten food which escaped our mouths and died a slow, painful death underneath the sofa. Oh, and that bottle of cleanser that I knew I had purchased? Yeah, a successful rescue operation of the bottle and a consortium of odds and ends that I had either forgotten about or thought I lost is launched in the back corner of the linen closet.

And finally, there's the trash can. Over the years I've opted to move some cans from house to house, and sometimes I've taken one look at them and said, "I'm trashing the trash container because it's just too trashy." I mean, seriously! How in the world does it get so gross, so quickly? Well, part of the reason, at least for me, is that I have never been able to find a trash container which is easy to keep clean. One that uses every square inch of the liner and prevents grime and liquid from leaking into the barrel. One that I'm not embarrassed for the movers to take away.

Until now, that is.

A few weeks ago, armed with a gift card, I found the trash can of my dreams. And because I'm nice, I want you to experience the sheer joy that my new trash can has brought me. Isn't she lovely?  

Expensive, by trash can standards, but well worth every penny. Or, in my case, gift card dollars. This can has a container inside of a container, ensuring that the main barrel never gets yucky and allowing for easy lift out and cleaning of the secondary barrel. It also utilizes every square inch of the liner so I don't have to pull out a half-filled liner. It also has a foot pedal so you never have to touch the can. But if you do touch the can, it's fingerprint resistant! Click here to see some of the loveliest cans you've ever seen in your life.

This year, I will not be left feeling embarrassed when the movers cart her away. In fact, I'll be counting the days until we're reunited. I will, however, be mortified to find other various and sundry objects have been living in sin right under my roof, or bed, or sofa or appliances....


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