Today I learned something about myself. I learned that I am the kind of person who will pay $60 plus tax for a receptacle in which to store my kitchen garbage.
I used to stash my trash in a cheap Rubbermaid trashcan under the sink. It was a wonderful solution, until my new cat Max discovered that he could pull open the doors and get in, the better to eat whatever I’d just thrown away. I tried various means of fastening the doors, settling on a couple of elastic hairbands. But he’s a persistent little feline, and he would keep pulling and pulling at the doors and squeezing his head in until he stretched the bands and they no longer worked.
Then I resorted to sealing the doors with duct tape.
This worked well, in that it kept Max out of the trash. But at the same time it didn’t work at all, because it also kept me from putting anything into the trash. I found myself putting trash in plastic grocery store bags and hanging them from a hook at the top of the basement door, because that was much faster than peeling away the duct tape and then reapplying it.
I bought some childproofing things to secure the under-sink area, but I didn’t want to spend time affixing them — I dislike any task that requires drills — and I didn’t think they would be much of an improvement. How long would it take Max to figure out how to unlatch the childproof latches? My guess: one day.
Instead, I bought the shiny chrome trash can. It takes up little space, and it’s actually easier for me to access than the under-sink can was before Max came along. I think of it as snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Or at least, from the jaws of a clever and persistent house cat.