Well, it turns out that I stink at composting. Literally – stink.
I did the gravy-separator-in-the-garbage-can for a summer, but I still wasn’t very good at taking scraps out to the pile before they became ‘inhabited’ by smelly little microbes and such, so it went by the wayside.
The past week or so I’ve been trying to weed through all the old extra food that is around here (that’s tomorrow’s post), and Lloyd was upset at my new composting effort – a bucket on the counter that honestly didn’t have that much disgustingness in it.
But he beseeched the heavens to help him endure me, and that always gets on my nerves.
So I stuck it in the freezer. There. Now I have the scraps in suspended animation until I have enough to justify a vampire-ridden, 31-step (one-way) trip to the compost pile.
Marriage. It’s all about compromise.
And vampire avoidance.