The Accidental Recyler

I’m not a person who solidly believes in man-made global warming. I won’t argue that we don’t necessarily take the greatest care of our planet. I don’t disagree that we should take steps to protect earth, as it is currently our only place to live. I just don’t buy into the theory that there is some huge climate change occurring as a direct result from SUVs idling in the carpool lane. Anyone ever hear of the Ice Age? It’s part of global history that our planet goes through heating and cooling stages. Thankfully, we now have climate controlled homes and don’t have to resort to wearing mammoth pelts. All of this to say, I have become an avid recycler, unintentionally.

When we lived in our last house, we paid for recycling for years without me realizing it. Brandon stuck the bins in the attic, and never told me it was part of our garbage service. Now, I wasn’t in a rush to recycle, but if I’m paying for something I’m going to use it. Recently, our city switched garbage companies and when they dropped off our enormous can/cart, they also dropped off a 96 gallon recycling bin. I thought it would be a great place to store all the balls that roll out of our garage every time one of the doors is opened.

Alex saw the new bin and said, “Hey Mom, at school we talked about the rainforest. And I think we’re supposed to recycle to save the rainforest.” A bit misguided, but I couldn’t argue with Alex over recycling when the city was making it so convenient. I read the information and it turned out I didn’t have to sort the recyclables and they accepted a lot of the junk I normally toss. I’m not even required to rinse the jars/cans/milk jugs, but I do because I want to be liked. Even by the recycling people who don't have time to notice my efforts.

It’s recycling for the lazy and apathetic.

Once I got started I couldn’t stop. I’m boarder-line obsessive about recycling. I will jerk the sale ads away from Brandon just to put them in the bin. I know what type of plastic specific bottles are made from and whether or not they can be recycled. My daily routine includes flipping over empties to see if they have a “1” or a “2”. Sometimes “5” looks like “2” and I realize my eyes are getting bad. I worry because I don’t want to buck the system. Some neighbors are annoyed because apparently the old company accepted “5s” and “7s” and it makes them very mad that the new company doesn’t. I don’t know, but I do know the company only picks up the recycling every other week and lately we’ve had more recyclables than garbage.

Prior to our trash compactor I insisted on installing, Brandon dumping our lawn clippings on the empty lot next door, and my neurotic recycling habit, we needed two large carts for all our garbage. The garbage man even left us a nasty-gram. Twice. Now, most of the time our main garbage been in ¾ empty. I’m not naïve enough to believe all the stuff I put in the recycling bin is made into stationery and purses, but it gets me off the hook with Alex.