We have a system. We can't help but recycle. Probably 75% of our quote/unquote waste can be turned into something new by the geniuses who do that stuff. So we collect the goods in Trader Joe's bags and line them up in our garage until Wednesday night, the eve of Recycling Truck Day.
We switch off, and this week is my turn. When darkness falls, I will dress in my nastiest clothes (not much different from my regular clothes, really) and flip flops. I will pile the bags in the Camry and stealthily pull out of the gate.
Down the street I will go with my hazard lights on. Five miles an hour. I'll know exactly what I'm looking for: a blue bin that looks near-empty so I can fill it with treasures. It's like a homeless person scavenging, BUT IN REVERSE.
Once such a bin is spotted, the adrenaline starts to flow. The key is to move quickly, head down, and fill the bin to the brim. Then let the lid down slooowly and quiiiiiiietly. Usually there is not enough room in one and you have to find two or even THREE more.
The worst is pulling up to a bin and seeing the owner of the house hanging around. Like she's waiting for me. When that happens it's best to move it along. Trust me, this is not the time to meet your neighbors.
I don't want to feel like a criminal anymore. I just want my own blue bin.
Vote YES on Prop BB!
Today's Coffee Beverage: I'm waiting for the three o'clock slump.
2 comments:
You had me at Blue Bin. I cried.
You do realise that those bins aren't plastic right? They're made from the dried husks of little orphan boys that don't get adopted by the time they turn 12. You sicken me.
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