The New Trash Initiative.

Despite the benign, utilitarian appearance of this garbage can, this is no ordinary, run-of-the-mill trash receptacle. Much like a basket of kittens might be left on a doorstep with a note attached that reads, “Please take care of us,” this garbage can arrived in my neighborhood, at every door, with a mandate. I had never before seen a garbage can with instructions, but this one dictated in bold letters on the side, “Take It To The Curb!”

Mystified, I wondered how it could have come to this. I mean, were the citizens of my fair city so stricken with an overwhelming sense of ennui when trash day rolled around that they needed a catchy mantra or slogan to inspire them to properly dispose of their waste products? Or, worse, were vast numbers of people across the city confused where their garbage was to be placed? I mean, prior to receiving this handy reminder, were my neighbors opening up their front doors and lawlessly tossing their trash bags over their shoulders and up onto their roofs? How cavalier! How unhygienic! How completely and utterly unsightly!

I can see the city planners now, holding one last important meeting to solve this problem, scratching their worried heads as someone cries out in desperation, “This can’t continue! Where will Santa Claus land if the roofs are covered in trash?!”

I’m certain the lawyer in the room chimed in with, “Assuredly, it’s axiomatic that the liabilities involved in a potential negligence case by said Kris Kringle against the city far outweigh the costs involved in a new initiative to inform our citizens of the physical direction within which, notwithstanding anything to the contrary, their trash should be properly disposed in perpetuity.”

However it happened, the new garbage cans, adorned with our city’s new informational mantra, arrived. From that point on, unquestionably, we all knew what to do -- “Take It To The Curb!”

I disliked these cans from the beginning. For one, I was used to the old way of doing things and was already in the habit of placing my trash bags gingerly near the curb. Second, I was concerned for the elderly people in the neighborhood. Although you can’t tell from the photograph, when this thing is full, it is very heavy and the wheels are difficult to maneuver through the grass. I have a newsflash for the city – for older people, it is not so easy to take it to the curb. Further, once they get it to the curb, the large width of the can necessitates that part of it inevitably protrudes out into the driveway.

In order to address issue number one, my reluctance to accept the new cans, I used yoga which, after all, teaches us to be flexible. I can certainly adapt to a new way of throwing out my trash. Certainly, there are far worse contingencies being forced on people than this one.

As far as issue number two is concerned, I think these cans are, in fact, a nuisance for the elderly. As I was leaving for work the other morning, I witnessed one of my older neighbors actually run over her garbage can with her car.

It happened as she was backing out of her driveway, employing a very cautious gas-brake-gas-brake-gas-brake approach. You know, the kind of brake tapping that causes every passenger’s head to sway back and forth in perfectly synchronized jerky rhythms. I knew she could see me coming and she was being extra careful to look for oncoming cars. She ran over the garbage can and it toppled into the street. Naturally, I blamed this unfortunate occurrence on the can for being too big. I knew she would be nervous and would question her driving capabilities, but I wanted her to know that this was not her fault. In order to alleviate her fears, I had to spring into action.

I pulled The New Age Mystery Machine (that is, my car) over to the side of the road, put down my morning smoothie, and rushed over to pick up the toppled can as I knew she couldn’t lift it by herself. Then, as she was nervously approaching me to express her gratitude, I threw my arms angrily in the air and shouted (loud enough for the city officials 3 miles away to hear), “Stupid garbage cans! I hate those things!”

I watched her face, previously awash with a veil of self-doubt and anxiety, soften to relief as she threw her own arms up and exclaimed, “Yeah! Me too!” And then she thanked me as I drove off to work with the confidence and certitude that comes with knowing you’ve helped to relieve someone of unnecessary stress they may have carried with them throughout the day.

Isn’t that what yoga teaches us? To unburden ourselves just a little bit? To have compassion for ourselves and others? To accept whatever comes as it is and make the most of each unpleasant moment? To help us to keep driving even when a lunatic garbage can (underestimated due to typically being thought of as an inanimate object) throws itself out in front of us? Although I would have certainly preferred a basket of kittens on my doorstep, I’m thankful to have my new pet garbage can and the yogic lessons it teaches me as I travel down the crate myrtle lined streets of my neighborhood.

Upon reflection, of course, I have also realized that I may have made a colossal mistake in my perception of this situation. What if my neighbor dislikes the garbage cans as much as I do? What if she was causing her car to stutter in order to keep it on course as she aimed for the can? I can hear her version of the story now, “You know, Mildred, remember when I was telling you about that stupid garbage can? Well, I tried to run it over the other day and you wouldn’t believe what happened! This meddling girl actually stopped her car and picked it up! Yes, picked it up! Can you believe it? I’m telling you, there are city officials living in this neighborhood. I know they have a spy on every corner. She probably works in the city planner’s office. Well, I know, I have to keep a low profile for a while. But, just you wait and see, Mildred, I’ll take that can to the curb once and for all!”