Oh, my three foot knight in shiny armor

We purchased a garbage can today.  [I’m sorry, did you just roll your eyes and mutter, “that is not blog worthy”? You are *obviously* not aware what this garbage can means to me. Or what it took to get it. Or why we went two and a half months without one at all.]

It’s all because of the mister. [And love squabbles are always blog worthy. :: eye roll :: ]*

First there was the $4.99 garbage can I picked up at Target the week we moved in. We chose not to bring up our old garbage can since it was broken and had several tears in the plastic that didn’t seem strong enough to make the 250 mile uhaul trip. Plus? It’s a farking GARBAGE CAN. FYI. At any rate, I chose the most reasonable and cheap garbage can that struck me. Hey! It costs just a little more than a latte! Go me.

Mr. Flinger poopooed it almost immediately. “It doesn’t have a lid. We need one with a lid. Plus it’s too small.”  “It fits under the sink where National Garbage Can Law says it must go.” “It’s too small. I don’t like it. Let's (you) take it back and find one together.” MmmmK. Didn’t know the man wanted a say in the garbage receptacle.

Three weeks later we head to Bed Bath and Beyond specifically to find a garbage can. We spend, no kidding, three hours in the store. We debate size. Color. Peddle Popup? Or lid you lift? What about this $109 chrome dilly that you wave your hand in front of and the lid pops open for you? LB pooped twice while at the store and I had to take a seat when I started getting gaggy. Finally we settled on a black, medium size, plastic garbage can with a lid. “Think it will fit under the sink?” he asks. “Sure. Whatever. I need to eat again.”

We bring it home, place it under the sink and WOMP. It doesn’t fit. Naturally. So we set it aside so we can take it back and try again. This time, Mr. Flinger states, We’ll take measurements with us. Duh. Measurements. That’s what we forgot. (Seriously, you think YOU are rolling your eyes? SERIOUSLY. I almost needed surgery to correct my pupils from the constant eye roll.)

Tonight we headed to Linnens and Things because hey! We haven’t tried there yet!  We walked the entire store, searched through all Christmas products, candles, gifts that vibrate and massage, curtains, towels and back to Christmas products. We saw only one garbage can, a bathroom chrome one, and almost utterly discouraged went to get in line. Then he saw it: Shining in the way only my dream garbage collector could, the isle of garbage cans and oh! the variety! the glamor! The hope and possibility made us breathless.

After careful searching we found one we liked. A can we can agree on. A can that will sit out, not hide under the sink, but be a part of the family with its shiny chrome and fancy pedal. It will go by the sink and

we will teach the kids not to play with it

I will completely lose my mind when the toddler gets in to it for the fiftieth time and feeds onion peel to the baby. But we found it. Our garbage can.

I heart it.

Actually, I’m so ambivalent it’s pathetic, about the actual can itself, but the search? The chase? I am not one to go after those “hard to get” types. Fark that. I just wanted my garbage can and I wanted him now. But the waiting is a little bitter sweet. And now, he is home.

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*What may actually be blog worthy is the fact that we ran in to Santa at World Wraps. HALLELUJAH! We saw SANTA! My little heart just can’t take it. Santa AND a garbage can in the same night! :: swoon ::