For the longest time I have been trying to convince my husband that a new trash can was a must for our family. The old one was purchased while living abroad and not wanting to spend money on items we’ll leave behind. Somehow it found its way into the freight (Thank you Honey!)

When I first started my search I had no idea how much a trash can would actually run me. I was shocked to see some people throwing down more than 200 dollars for something they were going to throw dirty diapers and onion peels in. (no I don’t have a diaper genie) I looked around and did some research all the while informing my husband that I was going to replace this hideous stark white monster that was now stained from years of abuse. So I pranced my unbathed self down to bed bath & beyond to have a looksee. There she was calling to me from a shelf too high for me to reach. The brushed silver goddess of waste recepticals. I had to have her. After getting some assistance I played with her, checking out the peddle and looking at her from all angles for any dents or hidden dings. I made my way to the check out.

“Your total is 86.97.” When she said this I began to think how my husband might react to the idea that I had paid that much for a waste bin I mean it doesn’t do dishes and can’t watch the kids. I took her home and quickly kicked out her former competition.

Needless to say he was not impressed with how much I spent and was convinced I could have gotten the same one somewhere else at a cheaper price. Sigh. So that all being said now we are in conflict of what to call the damn thing. I say waste bin, he still calls it a trash can. I tried to tell him that a trash can is something that you take to the curb then he got all technical on me and listed off all the other words for a “disposal unit” Yeah yeah, whatever the fact is it matches the kitchen and I am the domestic goddess and you never question a domestic goddess.