It Ain't Easy Being Green or in my case a Pale Olive
I'm all for saving the earth. In fact, I might even be considered pretty "green" to most folks in this non-recycling town. I forego wrapping paper and gift bags for a nice ribbon, I turn off the water when I brush my teeth and wash dishes, and I choose paper over plastic.
Okay. So, I'm not high on the green scale. I get that. But for what it's worth, I do give it some effort and thought. And I'm all for being a conservationist. Hell. I'm a human and I don't want the earth to blow up, freeze, or melt into one big puddle. However, there has to be a stopping point. You know, when saving stuff takes over your house and then affects your existence. Or in this case. MINE.
It all started when I was unpacking from our not-so-vacation. My in-laws had packed the cooler for us, and amidst the bread, milk, and eggs I found mustard and ketchup packets, four used straws, and splendas. Lots of splendas.
Now, I really hate throwing away ketchup packets and taco bell hot sauces in particular, however, was it really necessary for me to drag them all the way home? And the straws? Can we not afford NEW straws that we must keep used ones? Oy.
If you think that's bad, you should see their house. It's freakishly clean - you know, sheets on the furniture, plastic on the table, and everything in its rightful place. Even if you're still eating off of it or playing with it. They must have some inner timer. If you're not done with it in 4.7 minutes, tough luck. It gets put away.
I'm all about "rightful places" (in theory, that is). However, the amount of stuff they have is amazing. They must save every single gift box they ever get, and every single ribbon from every present they've ever received (or probably given). And, bags? Holy Vagina. They could bag an entire grocery store (nice paper ones, with handles) times 27.
When we had Q, my MIL pulled out an entire box full of crocheted sweaters and hats from when my husband and his sister were kids. AN ENTIRE BOX. Of mildewy, stinky sweaters and hats. Like at least 42. That she tried to wash. And put on my daughter. Ack.
And if you try to throw away something. Like plastic silverware. Your Whole Foods Salad Bar container. A straw. You're in deep shit. Unless you hide it really well. And then maybe they won't discover it. Until they take the trash out and bring it back in and put your leftover pizza in it. Blech.
So, while I love me a recycled notecard and homegrown tomato, please don't hate me for wanting a new straw. Call me crazy or frivolous. But there are certain things I just must have. And I take full responsibility if my desire for new clean straws causes the earth to explode. But until then I'll enjoy ripping the wrapper each and every time.