Thanks to democracy, I’ve become a has-been in my own house

I’m having doubts about democracy, even as half the world’s population go to the polls this year, including in the EU, the US, India and the UK. Russia votes next month. I wonder who will win there?

Thanks to democracy, I’ve become a has-been in my own house. I’ve been voted out, out, out. It’s not as though I did not see this coming. Other long-time residents have included my black bin for general waste, brown bin for food waste, green bin for recyclable waste, a bin for clear glass, and a bin for green glass.

These five bins and I happily coexisted for years. We coexisted even as things occasionally became a bit cramped for us all, particularly at party times or birthdays, Christmas, new years, welcome visitors, unwelcome visitors, and those unplanned spontaneous events which, all agree, are best of all but can stretch the capacity of any bin, whatever its colour.

Christmas (just) Past proved too much for most of my bins who were gorged beyond capacity, with a proliferation of glass bottles (are they green to protect wine from light?). So there was much grumbling from my rubbish residents. I’m used to that.

‘My partner will not give up meeting people for sex. I feel enormous rejection’

---

Ireland’s best restaurants revealed at annual awards

---

Why does Dublin Airport want to demolish North Terminal, an icon of Irish modernist architecture?

---

Sarah McInerney: ‘If you look up middle-child syndrome in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of me’

---

What brought matters to a head was my introduction of a new bin for tins and bottles under the new Return Scheme which means I can get 15 cent for every can or bottle up to 500ml that I bring back to the supermarket, and 25 cent for cans or bottles more than 500ml.

There was murder when I said I was doing this. The black bin, always the most militant (why I call him Bin Laden!), called a meeting behind my back and, by unanimous decision, the bins decided they would not tolerate a new arrival for “returns”. They insisted this new bin would get preference as it will generate income. I assured them this would not happen and that, anyhow, my writ ran as it was my house.

They argued trenchantly that they had accrued rights too, being resident in the house for so long, including having a vote on who lived there. It became very heated. Soon it was a case of me or them. They voted and it was them. I was out.

A rubbish decision.

Rubbish, from Anglo-French rubouses, but the word is believed to be of unknown origin.

inaword@irishtimes.com