Every now and then I stop and wonder why I don't blog as often as I would like to. Well, last Thursday as I was getting ready for my trip back up to Jersey I was presented with a physical manifestation of an answer.
I made this list at around noon and my goal was to be done, eating dinner and preparing for a pre-drive nap by 7. Plenty of time. And if you will notice, most of the list got taken care of. Except for one glaring omission. One that I had plenty of time to do but just didn't. Oops, my bad.
I would like to direct your attention to one of the items that did get crossed off, though. Tucked up there in the top right corner all unassumingly. Do you see it? There is one innocuous enough looking item that has been the bane of my home existence for the last few months. That nasty little R-word.
It's not that I dislike recycling. Far from it. In my parents' town recycling is mandatory and they wont pick up your trash if there is anything that looks recyclable in it. I'm all for that. We make enough garbage as it is, we don't need to add to the problem and stamp our future existence as a species "Totally Fucked" by not recycling what we can. So don't think I'm complaining about having to sort my recycle, but my love of the third R (not 'rythmatic) is actually part of the issue.
You see, IJ and my lease started in february. When we started bringing boxes and boxes of his stuff over there was this delightful, huge, brand new, green recycle bin from the town next to the house. We filled it up quickly. And then we started making piles of recyclable boxes for the next fill. And then we bothered to check when our recycle day was. The answer: July.
It seems that these fancy new bins were part of a program that Charlotte had yet to institute and the elementary school-style re bin we were supposed to be using for the next 5 months was nowhere to be found. But there was no way I was going to be okay with throwing out that much cardboard.
So the box piles from all of Indie Jake's stuff stayed in our hallway from February to May.
And then I moved my junk in in May. And the box pile became a box hill.
And then we noticed that we were missing some furniture; furniture that could be bought at IKEA. And the box hill became a box mountain.
Add to that the cardboard from our normal grocery and healthy beer consumption and it becomes a little bloody ridiculous.
Back to the white board. On thursday, we had finally had enough recycle pickups that the last of box mountain went into the big green bin. The natives rejoiced. (read: I danced around the living room with the cat.)
Our house was now recycle pile free. Except for those boxes I brought back from my parents' house this weekend with the last of my stuff so it doesn't get lost in their upcoming move...and the box for the printer that IJ got to replace his that shit the bed...