Trash can boogeyman

I just finished up my first big grocery shop and am about to embark upon my first 'cooked' meal in my new/own apartment. But before I tie on the apron I thought to clear my kitchen of the monstrous garbage bags I had been stuffing and accumulating throughout the move-in process.

There is a designated garbage area, flippantly shown to me by the Realtor a month ago, which is located through a back door, ominously fitted with not one or two but three locks, behind my fridge.

Thrilled with the idea of having two doors to my apartment (the NY equivalent of a mansion) I bounded down the backstairs to find, with one ill-lit stairwell after another, a boogeyman's dream. Dark corners abound, stairs creek, spider webs leap out and cling to your shoe.

Out to a dark alley and through a rusted iron gate is - ta da - the garbage bin. With my foot stretched backwards to keep the heavy door (escape route) from closing, I chucked my lofty bags in the general direction of the bin and got the hell out of dodge. Eek.

Now is certainly the time to go green. There is no way I'm making that trip down on a weekly or even monthly basis. The choice is mine: live amongst my trash or lose an appendage to the alleyway monster.