The wakeup call was the dawning realization of how much we were still using that's intended to be disposable and can't be reused. The hundredweight of magazines and catalogs astonished me every time we loaded the trunk of the car. I expected the newspapers to take up a lot of space, but they were a tenth of the heft of the other paper. Then there was the prohibition on dry cat food pronounced by our vet. You don’t know what it’s like to collect aluminum cans until you’ve fed a voracious feline for a month on wet food. We did enjoy sorting the colors of glass by heaving bottles into the maws of those dumpsters and listening to them shatter.
There I was, happy to have a nice light mop that would scrub spilled orange juice or bacon grease with a few swipes. The trouble is, the mop pad was meant to be (and really needed to be) thrown away. I can't wring a string mop any more, and I hate grungy sponges leaning against a wall somewhere to dry.
I’d been in the habit of saving plastic bags (as most people with an indoor cat are apt to do). I bought cloth bags to take to the grocery store, but I really needed those plastic bags. Besides, if I’d had extra ones, the store accepted them for recycling. I wrestled with the dilemma of whether or not to use the light-weight, easy-to-store and necessary plastic. I decided to push the disposable mops to the back of my mind, but I still use old rags for furniture polishing, and I did hang a hand towel near the kitchen sink, so our paper towel use is diminished. Still …
When the city closed the recycling center, a local entrepreneur started up a business that, for a reasonable price, dealt with our offal. I can’t say what a relief that was. Not only does someone come to empty our two bins (one for paper) twice a month, we no longer must separate kinds of paper, and they accept all colors of glass, cans, and plastic in a single big blue bin. So I relaxed and practiced tossing cans from the kitchen door.
Of course, there's a minor problem, which is the weight of the paper bin. The only way I can get it out of the garage is to push or pull it across the (thankfully) slick concrete and wrestle it up against the wall outside. If I can’t pick up the other container, I’ll know I have to give up drinking so much wine or scotch or eating so much jam. Glass is heavy.
Between my shrinking budget and my eco-consciousness, though, something still had to give. I let one magazine subscription after another lapse, I telephoned the numbers on labels of about two dozen catalogs to ask them not to send more. Once the messages kicked in, I could see an improvement, and felt righteous again.
Still basking in my feelings of virtue, I had another jolt. One of my friends empties coffee grounds out of the paper filter before recycling it, and she saves lightly-used paper napkins.
©2013 Joan L. Cannon for SeniorWomen.com
Illustration from Wikimedia Commons: Punch and Judy Comics Volume 1, #1, Page 49, 1944
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