I have noticed that it is hard to find garbage bags in any size smaller than large. Probably not as hard as I first supposed, but with this thought in mind I decided, when I was furnishing the apartment, to get a large trash can. That way I wouldn’t waste trash bag capacity.
I discovered the amount of trash I generate in the apartment on a regular basis is so small that it can take several weeks for a bag to fill up–even without enthusiastic cramming like we do back home, where the garbage needs to be changed several times a day.
I also discovered that this amount of time accomodates the lifecylce of the common fruitfly just fine. So I finally conviced myself to change the garbage once a week, regardless of how full it is. Usually I do that Saturday morning. And I try to convince myself that the bag is 4/5 full or something.
It usually works okay. Maybe it’s just the temperature of the apartment, but I haven’t had bug trouble. However, when I have gotten rid of meat packaging, that will start to smell in two or three days. Then one part of me says “Hello! Bad smells are good warnings. Get rid of it!” And another part says, “A few more days won’t hurt. All that wasted trash bag space. The environment. Long-term savings. Frugality.” I think this side of me has even mumbled something about “It’s just going to sit in the dumpster anyway,” although even this freakish side of my nature is embarrased to say such a thing out loud.
I don’t hate the actual job of changing the garbage, as some do. It’s just hard for me to throw out empty garbage bags. It’s the mental equivalent of heavy lifting.
Quirks like this cause domestic disputes, divorces, and murders across the country. Such foibles also become more evident in old age, under stress, or after some kind of phsycic trauma. The inability to put up with and overcome these quirks, respectively, are kinds of selfishness destroying the fabric of our society.
Don’t worry, I’ll change the garbage. Tomorrow morning, after I’ve got a few more pieces of trash in there.