Garbage Cans And Geese

Two weeks ago, I scrubbed out the inside of my rubbish containers. 

No, I do not mean the managably-sized bins and baskets that live in the house. 

I mean the big-daddy curbside boys. 

^My various garbage bins, resting on their immaculately clean sides in all their post-scrubbing glory. Aren't they pretty? 

Once a year, these plastic caverns get hosed and scrubbed to within an inch of their lives. Copious amounts of bleach, a high-pressure hose, and a feisty old broom are employed with abandon to polish each receptacle to near perfection. I invest a ridiculous amount of elbow grease in the process, but by gum, I only do this once a year and so I'm determined to give the job my all.

Full confession: I'll admit that when I was done, I was so pleased with the results that I seriously considered taking a few shots of my glorious handiwork. 

I know. Garbage cans, right?

^ This is my blue recycling bin, where plastics, paper, glass and aluminum are all tossed in a heap together, resulting in a sticky mess of residual food and bits of paper along the bottom. 

After a moment's reflection, however, I decided that the bleach fumes were surely getting the best of me. So I laid down my camera and passed on the opportunity.  

Then I posted the good news of this auspicious event on Facebook and wouldn't you know it, one of my friends asked to see photos. 

^ The grey receptacle is for regular trash, which we gather up in bags from the house. Accordingly, he stays fairly clean, but its previous owners stuffed him full of used cat litter and I'm forever trying to wipe out the last of the odors. 

Ha. Guess that wasn't such a crazy idea after all. 

^ Green is for yard waste and food scraps, the hardest working soldier of the three. Week after week, this bad boy ends up jam packed with grass clippings, plant debris, heaps of weeds, and a handful of errant snails, and interwoven with coffee grounds, egg shells, vegetable trimmings and the occasional piece of rotten fruit. By week's end, the whole mess has slightly decomposed and leaves an onerous bit of residual inside this bin. 

Now multiply that by fifty-two weeks in a year, and trust me, that allows for one dirty bin. 

Sadly, though, my pretty cans had already resumed their life of drudgery and were no longer picture perfect. But fear not, I reported to my friend; just give me a week or two and I'll give them a quick touch-up and share photos for sure. 

^ This brown boy served as our main garbage receptacle for twenty-five faithful years before the grey guy took over. Now, even with a few holes in the bottom, he serves as our back-up compost container and during the summer months often gets called into play. 

So today was that day. 

I re-rinsed.

I re-scrubbed. 

I shamelessly photographed my clean containers, standing in the street for the best angles and proudly snapping away as the neighbors drove past.

And now I have shared my story with you.

And on the off-chance that photographs of my clean garbage cans don't quite fill your soul with the peace and serenity that they offer me, maybe these geese will suffice.