I'm with a few members of my family, traveling in a bright yellow-colored place, like Mexico. We pull into this store, like a gas-station quick-stop store with many posters and decorations, floor to ceiling.

We finish our business and get ready to leave, but Steve says no, we're staying here. Apparently it's also a hotel, and while we were staying here, he checked it out and decided to stay.

It's more like a common home than a hotel, and apparently we were just invited to stay. We have this room upstairs, but there's no garbage can, and I apparently have something to discard, so I go downstairs to the kitchen, where there is a small wastebasket on a low shelf, so I grab it and bring it upstairs, but then I think that wasn't very nice, I should ask for a plastic bag or something.

Then somehow Bella gets into the garbage bag, butt-first, and is squirming around in some milky liquid that can be seen through the clear plastic. So far, it's contained, but I know that as soon as she gets out she's going to make a terrible mess - and she does, scattering the milk all over the room, and soaking the sleeve of the sweatshirt I'm wearing.