Hey,
All right, after years of resisting the urge to blog, I think it's time. I read somewhere recently (I think it was on a blog) that authors and perspective authors without blogs can may as well forget any chance of getting noticed these days, so that's part of the reason.
The other thing is, I have a bunch of ideas that I'd like to say publicly, and newspapers, where I tend to get published, don't always have the courage to publish the writing I like best. A lot of these ideas center around being 30-something and living in a suburb, hence the creative title for this blog.
What a crappy opening message.
Anyway, the actual blog entries should get better. I plan to post at least once a week, kind of/sort of like my own unpaid column.
Enjoy, and let me know what you think.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
My garbage
Hey,
Each week, as I drag seemingly endless bags of trash into the garage - I'm talking two or three bags every other day - I think to myself, "How the hell can a family go through this much garbage?"
It's enough to make me feel like I'm personally contributing to our global environmental crisis, and I'd rather not feel it's my fault.
On Sunday nights, this is particularly true as I stuff as many garbage bags as I can into the huge green trash container that my "waste disposal" company gives me. Garbage Day is Monday. And so, with every bit of strength that I have, I push bags into the trash container's crevices the way mice squeeze beneath my garage doors for winter warmth. I stand on a step stool and push down, down, down, in an effort to fit one more bag, a dead plant, a car tire, or something that is likely illegal, like empty asphalt containers and paint cans.
The trash container on Monday morning is always overflowing; it's just to what degree is it overflowing. Are the bags steady and just peeking out from under the top of the container? Or is it a blatantly obvious week, with a teetering pile of white bags threatening to topple into the road with a breeze from each passing car?
I leave for work on Mondays wondering, "Will the trash guys take it this week, or will they send my another snide letter reminding me not to overstuff the garbage and threaten to close my account?"
A problem, right now, is that we have two kids in diapers. Diapers alone probably account for at least two or three of the trash bags. Our daughter Alison, for instance, sometimes goes through ten a day. She is three months old. Our son Ethan, who is 2 1/2, probably shouldn't be in diapers anymore, but his messes help fill the garbage bags, too. We tried the whole Diaper Genie thing, but they don't work. I can't tolerate emptying an entire month of rotting feces. You think the john at a rest area smells bad.
(This reminds me - I wonder when I will be able to smell normally again? There are diapers in just about every room of our house, and it's taking a toll. They're in the trash upstairs in the bathroom, in our downstairs bathroom, under the kitchen sink, and sometimes, if we forget, lying around in our cars, remnants of trips to the grocery store or playground. The sick part is - and this is why I'm concerned here - is that they don't smell as bad as they used to. My theory is that we've lost the ability to smell them anymore. In fact, my sense of smell is weaker than ever. Big Red gum, which I used to chew when I was stuffed up because it cleared my sinuses, now just has the vague odor of poop, for instance.)
I'm considering canceling trash pickup - which, unfortunately, I have to pay for in my suburb - and bring the garbage to the dump myself. It would save us more than $300 a year. Of course, it would require a few trips a week, probably, and knowing us garbage would spill all over the interior of our cars. Another thing: Taking the trash to the dump myself would mean that I'd have more interactions with the head guy at our transfer station - who, like many head guys at transfer stations - is really weird. He always corrects me and tells me that I'm throwing stuff in the wrong place. (Is there a reason why a refrigerator doesn't belong with the cardboard?)
Also, if I brought my garbage to the dump myself, I'd have to tolerate the smell of diapers in the confines of a closed car.
I guess I'm willing to pay the $300.
Each week, as I drag seemingly endless bags of trash into the garage - I'm talking two or three bags every other day - I think to myself, "How the hell can a family go through this much garbage?"
It's enough to make me feel like I'm personally contributing to our global environmental crisis, and I'd rather not feel it's my fault.
On Sunday nights, this is particularly true as I stuff as many garbage bags as I can into the huge green trash container that my "waste disposal" company gives me. Garbage Day is Monday. And so, with every bit of strength that I have, I push bags into the trash container's crevices the way mice squeeze beneath my garage doors for winter warmth. I stand on a step stool and push down, down, down, in an effort to fit one more bag, a dead plant, a car tire, or something that is likely illegal, like empty asphalt containers and paint cans.
The trash container on Monday morning is always overflowing; it's just to what degree is it overflowing. Are the bags steady and just peeking out from under the top of the container? Or is it a blatantly obvious week, with a teetering pile of white bags threatening to topple into the road with a breeze from each passing car?
I leave for work on Mondays wondering, "Will the trash guys take it this week, or will they send my another snide letter reminding me not to overstuff the garbage and threaten to close my account?"
A problem, right now, is that we have two kids in diapers. Diapers alone probably account for at least two or three of the trash bags. Our daughter Alison, for instance, sometimes goes through ten a day. She is three months old. Our son Ethan, who is 2 1/2, probably shouldn't be in diapers anymore, but his messes help fill the garbage bags, too. We tried the whole Diaper Genie thing, but they don't work. I can't tolerate emptying an entire month of rotting feces. You think the john at a rest area smells bad.
(This reminds me - I wonder when I will be able to smell normally again? There are diapers in just about every room of our house, and it's taking a toll. They're in the trash upstairs in the bathroom, in our downstairs bathroom, under the kitchen sink, and sometimes, if we forget, lying around in our cars, remnants of trips to the grocery store or playground. The sick part is - and this is why I'm concerned here - is that they don't smell as bad as they used to. My theory is that we've lost the ability to smell them anymore. In fact, my sense of smell is weaker than ever. Big Red gum, which I used to chew when I was stuffed up because it cleared my sinuses, now just has the vague odor of poop, for instance.)
I'm considering canceling trash pickup - which, unfortunately, I have to pay for in my suburb - and bring the garbage to the dump myself. It would save us more than $300 a year. Of course, it would require a few trips a week, probably, and knowing us garbage would spill all over the interior of our cars. Another thing: Taking the trash to the dump myself would mean that I'd have more interactions with the head guy at our transfer station - who, like many head guys at transfer stations - is really weird. He always corrects me and tells me that I'm throwing stuff in the wrong place. (Is there a reason why a refrigerator doesn't belong with the cardboard?)
Also, if I brought my garbage to the dump myself, I'd have to tolerate the smell of diapers in the confines of a closed car.
I guess I'm willing to pay the $300.
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