It's not what you think ... HA! My Beloved Curmudgeon insists on having a trash can in the kitchen. Not just any trash can and not just any where in the kitchen. It has to be a large trash can in a prominent place in the kitchen. PERIOD. Everywhere we have lived, no matter the shape, size or location of the kitchen, there has been a large trashcan prominently displayed in the kitchen. Oh, there have been times, especially early in our marriage, I tried to buy one of those little under the sink kind of kichen trash cans. Or maybe something a little more discreet to sit in a corner somewhere. I've learned. My attempts at proper kitchen trash can purchasing have failed miserably. He gets to choose the right trashcan for the kitchen. It has to meet some kind of criteria that only he is able to comprehend. It seems to be important to him, so why not let him choose it. We currently have a large blue trashcan with an open weave-like design on the side sitting beside the door that leads from the kitchen into our living room. Very conveniently located in the direct line of vision as you come into the side door of my house. That, of course, is the door most people use to come into my house. Isn't that lovely? [insert extreme sarcasm here] Oh, and there is nothing else blue in the kitchen. I think I can safely say it doesn't 'compliment' the decor in any way. It also has to have a large black plastic trashbag in it and hanging over the sides of it. The large black plastic trashbags are a whole nuther story. I mean, there is really a story behind those. That's what my marriage is like! But I'll save that for another entry into my Secrets of Marital Bliss series. [Please consider that fair warning.] As I was walking through the kitchen this morning, I instinctively bent down to pick up the paper towels surrounding the trash can. As I was doing it, I realized that is part of my morning routine. I do that every morning. Then I realized that I do that every time I pass the trash can. I had not even consciously realized how often I bend down and pick up whatever has been thrown AT the trashcan. The same applies to the laundry hamper now that I think about it - nothing in it, everything around it. I could look at this little habit as an opportunity for me to get some exercise, bending and picking up trash from around the trash can and clothes from around the hamper. I could make a big deal about it and fight about it constantly. Having had a disagreement about the trashcan a time or two early in our marriage I've chosen the former. I've learned him well enough to know he won't change and it's really not that important in the big scheme of things. [No, I didn't mispeak saying 'learned him'. That's a Southerism for I've gotten to know him or I've learned enough about him. I revert to my native tongue sometimes, Southern.] So I accept the big blue trashcan with the big black plastic bag hanging down over the trashcan's rim. I accept the constant and seemingly endless supply of wadded up paper towels that decorate the floor around the trashcan. I accept that this objet d'art is displayed at a focal point as someone enters my house or walks from our living room into our kitchen. Maybe I'll take a picture of it and put it one here. It is unique and I might be able to pull off a claim that it is intentional, actually art. Naaawww. I just accept his bad aim. At least I don't have to put up with bad aim like a lot of wives do.