When said trash can will no longer hold anything else, you receive inspiration from above. Suddenly climbing into the huge trash bin and jumping up and down to compress the contents seems like an enlightened idea.
Though the bin is as tall as your armpit and slightly unstable, you assume that it's no match for your cat-like agility.
You use a step ladder and awkwardly climb into the leaves, weeds and dirt. It compresses easily and jumping on it is kind of fun. You gain confidence in your skills as a trash compactor and jump harder.
Then the entire trash can slides out from under you leaving you on the asphalt surrounded by yard waste. In the front yard, of course, in full view of your neighbors.
You pretend you meant to do it.
You also may use every swear word you know to curse gravity.
Later your husband points out to you that you have a monster bruise on your intimate areas. Your inner thigh and left butt cheek look like rotting hamburger meat.
You use a step ladder and awkwardly climb into the leaves, weeds and dirt. It compresses easily and jumping on it is kind of fun. You gain confidence in your skills as a trash compactor and jump harder.
Then the entire trash can slides out from under you leaving you on the asphalt surrounded by yard waste. In the front yard, of course, in full view of your neighbors.
You pretend you meant to do it.
You also may use every swear word you know to curse gravity.
Later your husband points out to you that you have a monster bruise on your intimate areas. Your inner thigh and left butt cheek look like rotting hamburger meat.
Whoever would do is hypothetically an idiot.
