Hate it. Hate it.
I do any and every chore around the house from cleaning the toilets to making the bed but I just can't stand taking the rubbish out.
I don't know why, though.
Most probably because when we were growing up, taking out the bin was always Kane's job.
So I've just grown up believing that it's never my turn to take the bin out.
I go to great lengths to avoid taking the bin out when it's full.
Everything from shoving dissolvable rubbish down the drain, to placing rubbish around and on top of it, to staring at it with a forlorn expression hoping that David will see that I am distressed and take it out for me.
Right this very minute, that thing is bursting at the seams!
I keep forcing more and more rubbish into it hoping that by the time I need to use it again, it will have been taken out and the liner has been replaced.
I'm just about to start cooking, so unless you come around and take the bin out, things are going to get interesting.
Update 17.10.10: Returned from work to find David had not only taken it out, but washed it as well.
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