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The Garbage Can is a Metaphor for Life

 

I kid you not.

Let me put it this way: Have you ever gone to toss a used kleenex in the trash, only to notice that the can is getting pretty darn close to capacity? “It isn’t totally full yet, though!” you tell yourself happily. (Then you give a little mental cheer, since you aren’t compelled to actually do anything about it yet.)

On your next trip to the can to add an empty Edy’s container, you survey the pile with a twinge of dismay. Inspiration quickly strikes, however, and you artfully balance the Edy’s on top of the growing mountain. “Somebody’s going to need to do something about that soon,” you think. (Then you give a little mental cheer that “somebody” isn’t you, at least not yet, and remind yourself not to throw away anything else big.)

By nightfall you’re amazed to discover that the full trash can has gone an entire day without being emptied by anyone. Of course, you now have a pile of garbage that rivals Kilimanjaro, and your kitchen counters are full of empty boxes and bottles that look suspiciously “big”.

Well, with the whole trash mountain next to your cabinet quaking ominously, you decide you’ll have to finally bite the bullet. By this point, the once simple job of removing and replacing the trash bag has become a much more difficult task, requiring skill and not a little courage to corral all the wayward debris that scatters like a (very pungent) avalanche during the “removal” process. Once all the bits have been retrieved, the bag has been disposed of, and your hands have been thoroughly disinfected, you have your payoff. You finally have the pleasure of throwing trash into a sparkling fresh, newly lined can.

Happiness is having taken out the garbage.

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