The trash can metaphor in computing is as old as the desktop metaphor itself. It was first introduced with the Apple Lisa user interface, and found its way to the Macintosh. Apple patented the whole idea, and sued anyone who tried to use the same name, resulting in other user interfaces implementing the exact same principle but just named differently. Despite its old age, and the fact it barely changed over the decades, many people have issues with the traditional concept.
One of those issues is one I personally can really (and then I mean really really) identify with. Every now and then, I delete a file. I drag it to the trash icon, press delete, whatever; it ends up in the trash. The icon now changes to its "full" state - which triggers some of my obsessive compulsive neurones to fire like crazy, almost forcing me to empty the trash can. This means deleting a file automatically becomes a two-step process - especially on my PowerBook since Mac OS X seems to lack a shortcut like Windows' shift+delete. I've been improving my habits lately, and the compulsion to empty the trash has lessened, but it's still there.
Apparantly, I'm not the only one with this (admittedly, minor) problem. Jean-Francois Fortin Tam writes in his short but amusing rant "I Don't Want to Care About the Trash":
The trash can can become a very easy-to-trigger compulsion. I mean, it's there, sitting innocently in the corner of your panel or desktop, and it's... not empty. And it is eyeballing you, saying, "HEY, empty me you messy freak!". And you do it. Immediately. Every time you put something in.
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