Recycling

I love recycling. I really, really do. I think it's pretty much the best idea ever. Why wouldn't we want to re-use the crap we accumulate? The fact that the school newspaper can be turned into more newspaper makes me actually read it every day. I don't feel guilty about using great big cardboard boxes, because I know it can be turned into more boxes once I'm done with it.

There hasn't been a period in my life when I didn't recycle. My family has recycled stuff my entire life. We aren't hippies or anything (maybe a little) but we recycle. It's not because we are crusaders for the salvation of Planet Earth, it's because it makes sense.

When I lived in Portland, you recycled. There was no question about it. They highly discouraged throwing out things that could be turned into new things. You recycled or risked your health and well-being. I recycled, even though I normally resist such totalitarian proclamations, simply because I was used to recycling.

So then I moved into my apartment, which I love dearly and have enjoyed every day since moving here. However, there is no recycling. That was a problem.

Now, my roommate is also a recycler, trained by similarly-minded parents. We've become pack-rats of sorts- we try to keep every potentially-recyclable thing that crosses our path. We clean out milk jugs, and jars, and plastic containers, and we sort them into different bins with the intention of taking all of this to a recycling center. Unfortunately, we're both too busy to do that.

So, lo and behold, today rolls around. Valentine's Day, my least favorite of the religious-turned-secular holidays. I was in a decent enough mood, but when I got home, my day brightened substantially.

We received a flyer stating that our apartment is getting a recycling service. No one could have given me a better present for the holiday celebrating Hallmark. I can't wait to get our recycling bin. The Higher Deity know we have some crap that needs to be turned into more crap.