The Trash Can

Monday, May 7
It sits, motionless, on top of the scale. Why is it on the scale? Why do I need to know that our frosted-plastic and metal IKEA bathroom trash weighs two pounds?

A mystery, truly. But, as it is morning, 7:15 a.m. to be exact, I have neither the time nor inclination to explore it further. I place it on the wall, underneath the towel rack. It seems happy there. I shower.

Tuesday, May 8
I shower. It is 7:45 a.m., and I am running late. Still, never to economize time for cleanliness, I clean my ears with a Qtip. Finished, I toss them in the direction of the....what?! The can is again on the scale, Kate Moss-eque obsessed with its mass. I gently place it back to its true home, under the striped green towel on the rack. I hear the two of them are friends.

Wednesday, May 9
The can is on the scale again. I fear the can may be suicidal. I decide to lock it in the shower stall for its own good. More bulletins as events warrant.