Metaphor

I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and the kitchen garbage is so full I can hardly open the pullout cabinet it’s in. I grab the black plastic and tug. It’s stuck. I yank and jiggle and bounce and cuss till it finally gives way. Before tying the bag I decide I should also empty the overflowing trashcan in the upstairs bathroom. As I trudge up the stairs, I hear a lovely ballad coming from Ikuni’s room. I empty the can and scoop up the spillover mound of crinkled toilet paper once used to blow noses. I then lug the bulging bag down the stairs. I stop at the sidelight beside the front door. It’s snowing. Garbage in hand, the muted sounds of music in my ears, I watch the delicate flakes as they float to the ground.

Thumbnail image by Dyrk.Wyst (cc)

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4 comments

  1. I get it. So much angst. Somebody should also write about the frustration of not being able to open those plastic bags.

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