The trip to the container.
Isn't it amazing and rather puzzling seeing the volume of bottles and cans to be recycled? One tries to do the right thing but it has some hurdles attached.
In our five little boroughs, the placement of glass recycling containers is a bit too public at times. One doesn't want to go everyday and thus, when one does load up the car with empty bottles and stinky cans ( cat food and tuna ) one would be forgiven if it were under cover of darkness.
We live in the country, where walls have ears and sound carries for ever. Try dropping empty wine bottles down the chute of a metal container...feels like it would wake up the whole neighbourhood. Like a bell strikes the hour, so the bang of bottles could prove to be insightful.
Collecting the empty cans of cat food, tuna or beer is an entirely different project. Having lived for so long in a place where water is sparse, I balk at washing out empty cans. No no no, that would require more water than it's worth in order to recycle them. Water is the most precious resource of all, but having said that, lifting the lid to bin the cans is an affront to any nostrils. At least I am not the only one as it seems that most of Eisenberg doesn't rinse either.
Coming face to face with a gazillion empty cat food containers makes me feel a bit better about the way Bob and I spoil the princess. Mice and birds seem to be so out of fashion in Eisenberg. Now that winter is here, many a feral cat has left the open fields to seek a bed in stables, outhouses and on warm porches.
The gray tomcat that has adopted our yard has been leaving bits of rent for us to find. Three dead mice left on our front stoep recently can only point to him and come to think of it, I feel that he deserves an extra portion of food tonight...
Biggi
