I like to think (and I am not even ashamed to admit,) that I have acclimated to my less-than-urban surroundings fairly well at this point.
I can navigate the stores at the comically large local outdoor shopping area with my eyes closed.
During school drop off and pick up, I show extreme patience for my fellow parents who are, um let’s just say “parallel-parking-impaired.”
We frolic in the wide open spaces – on the trails, in the fields and foothills of our surrounding area.
After all – I was raised here, right?
So we have to have an agreement, my fair and reasonable readers… I will tell you a secret that no one but me (and possibly a King Soopers security guard who I HOPE hadn’t had enough coffee to actually be paying attention to the cameras,) knows:
See this trash can? It is what we call a “bear proof can” here at the base of the beautiful Rocky Mountains. (In my town it is probably more “coyote and raccoon proof” but we don’t get specific.) They do NOT exist in the city, I can tell ya that.
For SEVERAL minutes this morning, it was a Keri-proof can. Could NOT for the life of me figure out how to trip the mechanism in the stupid handle. Even tried the one on the other side of the door because I thought the first one had to be broken. No Keri – the user was broken.
After the first minute or so it became a battle of will – there was NO WAY I wasn’t opening that effing can. And I did. Then it slammed shut and almost ate my hand.
I guess I still have a ways to go out here if I can’t throw away my pile of fast food shame trash without getting in 5 minute fight with an overly complicated trashcan.
*PS – I know it’s been a bit quiet around here lately. Just getting Jr over the “beginning of big kid school ” hump. Stay tuned.