SPF - like yesterday's paper

Kristine has chosen to embarrass us all this week by asking to see the trashiest parts of our lives. Literally.

My trash can:
This is my upstairs kitchen trash can. Then of course there's the downstairs kitchen trash can, the bathroom trash cans, the trash can in my bedroom, the trash can in the school room, and the very frightening trash can in the boys' room. We're a trashy family. The white container is where we collect all the burnables until we feel like going outside for a bonfire. And before you go all recycling on me, they only recycle newspaper and corrugated here.

My junk drawer:Is it really a junk drawer if you know what's in it, and everything in it is where it belongs? I have made a conscious effort since moving into this house to try to keep track of things. Now, I couldn't tell you what all is in there, but if you asked me for, say, some earplugs, I would know right where to go.

My trunk:
This is what popped into my mind when I saw the word "trunk." Then I realized, oh, car trunk. Well, we don't have one. We have a station wagon, a minivan and a pickup. So here's the only trunk I have!

Did you play? Let me know and I'll stop by and gawk at your junk.