I read/heard many things yesterday about how to be more green, how you are being more green, how I can be more green, how my neighbors dog is being more green than me, how to actually morph yourself into Kermit the Frog and be the ultimate green, etc. I'm not sure if everyone agrees with this assessment of my character, and I'm not sure how it started, but I think a non-green reputation follows me around, even while I'm singing Hare Krishna and eating flax seed by the fist full. I could have cleared the air yesterday by doing my own post about the many ways I live a green life, but as soon as that publish button was hit, I would have been reaching for my reusable, all natural, made from the poo of unicorns paper bag to breathe into. I just can't bring myself to list how awesome I am. So, in honor of the day after Earth Day, I would like to get a secret off my chest, while also throwing in a thinly veiled attempt to showcase one of the many things I do to preserve this big ball in the sky I live on.
Clint only reads this blog when I let him know that I've posted something new, so it's likely he won't ever see this particular entry, unless YOU tell him, but YOU won't, because I know who YOU are, and I probably know where YOU live. Here's the deal - Clint recycles like a mad man. We fill our blue recycle bin to it's max capacity every week. What this says about us, (mass consumer or very thorough) I'm not sure. Well, if Clint forgets to put it out on the curb Monday morning, we're fated to a Mount Everest of reusable material until he concedes and chucks it all into the bed of his truck and drives down to the bins at the library. He'll actually pick stuff out of the trashcan that I've thrown away, and will yell at me afterwards. Here's my secret: Anything that requires rinsing out that Clint has deemed to be recycle worthy, ends up in the sink as is, thrown in there by him. Now, take a guess who does the dishes. Correct! And do I want to scrub out a 3 day old can of dried Hormel chili? No! So I strategically place it in the trash where he won't see it. I should toss it into the recycling bin in it's present condition, but I have visions of the recycling sorter man/woman/monkey grumbling about how no one rinses their cans out.
On a happier note, Tempe now takes glass and items marked 1-7. Clint almost pooed his pants with the excitement of the news, but stopped when he realized it wouldn't be recyclable.