Today I received a Philp K. Dick book shipped in a recycled El Paso taco shell box. I smiled at the novelty of it, and was reminded that I'm just not that green.
That fact that our building doesn't recycle would be a good excuse to refrain, but it doesn't stop us. The lady and I sort all of our cans, bottles, and taco shell containers for the trip to the local recyclery. Driving there of course.
I still subscribe to half a dozen magazines that I barely read and the amount of foam core I've encouraged into the world at work, should keep me up at night.
A light in my car has come on and off regularly for years. I found out it was the emmison when I checked the manual. When I receive the postcard for my annual required emission test, I make sure I go on a day the light is off.
Mitsuaw is a Japanese grocery store that has freshly made Nigiri and various rolls for a reasonable price. Last weekend it sounded good. Checking out, I declined the bag for our grub, but didn't think to carry the four pieces of Nigiri without the aid of a take-home, over-sized, styrofoam container.
In the seventies and eighties, recycling wasn't as popular. The effects of container waste and lack of renewable resources wasn't terribly obvious to our parents. I do remember bringing in soda bottles for the deposit, but that was only because I desired the cash.
Today's kids, while reminding me I'm getting old, also remind me how prevalent recycling is. It's refreshing to receive scornful looks from nieces and nephews if I slip and toss a recyclable item into the trash. It's of no comfort to know that they'll be able to point a finger at me when the world implodes.
2 comments:
You can only do what you can do. Just buy some more house plants and feel better. :)
Start a monkey-poo recycling program in your neighborhood today!
Post a Comment