Take Two Steps Toward The Trashcan and Call Me In The Morning

It's a strange phenomenon. All members of my family (myself excluded) seem to be struck by the same malady. All of them are allergic to the garbage can. Every single one of them. They cannot throw out an item of trash. Sometimes they get close. I'll go out to the kitchen and I'll find wadded up paper towels or wrappers from something sitting on the counter, mere inches from the wastebasket. So close. Almost made it but not quite. After a meal or a snack I can absolutely count on going into the kitchen and finding every item of trash and leftover garbage from the meal still sitting on the table: used napkins, empty soda cans, empty Capri Suns--you name it; it's still there. Practically every time. If I just left it---because that's the theory: they don't throw the stuff out because they know you will---if I just left it, it would only become evident that there was a problem when the trash had piled so high and took up so much room that they couldn't plop their plate down on the table. It might strike one of them then that something was amiss.

I don't know if there's a cure. I don't know if there is any medicine that helps trashcanitis. I don't suppose it's that rare of a condition, though I haven't heard much about it. But I do know, I know without a doubt, that it exists.