
I’m trying to move files between two computers using a USB key. One is an old cranky computer that doesn’t feel like going online, so I have to shuttle everything the hard way. First batch goes fine. I copy files to USB, carry over to the Mac, copy over from USB, delete all the files on the USB.
That’s when I discover the OS X Trash Wormhole.
The volume is entirely empty. No files. Zero directories. Bare. Yet, magically this 1GB USB key has shrunk to just under 64MB of space. I’m sure quantum theory could account for zero files taking up over 900MB of space.
Turns out that, like Schrödinger’s cat, these files are both there and not. They’re not there when you look at them, which is why you might think this is just a 64MB vintage USB key. Yet, if you use the Terminal, you will find they’re all quite there, collected in a directory called .Trashes. And .Trashes is plural, remember that.
How do you get rid of files you can’t see? Hmm …
OS X lets you empty the Trash from the Dock or a keyboard shortcut. Trash is singular. As you would expect, emptying the Trash will delete all your .Trashes, making room on the USB key (good), but also deleting all the trashed filed on the HD, some which may be accidentally trashed files (bad).
While the file system maintains one trash on each volume, the UI only provides access to one global trash. Whoever (obviously didn’t) think of this design is a genius, though the award goes to whoever got the pluralization crossed.
What I ended doing was to open Disk Utility and erase the USB key, thereby removing all the cruft OS X stores on the key without losing any of my HD trashed files. Then again, I’m a long time Linux user, I’m experienced in using low-level tools to work around flawed UI decisions. Still, I’m puzzled something like this could last through so many iterations of OS X.