In my post yesterday I mentioned rummaging through the trash. I wasn't so much rummaging, as transferring trash from the kitchen trash container into a plastic grocery bag. Whenever I go to town, I take a bag of kitchen trash along to be dropped in a trash receptacle at the gas station or grocery store.
These trash receptacles are meant for candy wrappers and pop bottles and I feel sheepish taking advantage of the beneficence of Holiday or Super-One as I stuff my bulging bag into their bin. But it must be. Teresa and I are both retired and must find methods to make ends meet.
During our working years we paid for weekly trash pick up. It didn't cost much and they drove into the yard to pick up our trash. Then they started requiring us to bring our trash to the end of the road where the neighbor's dog could get at it. I had to buy a heavy duty trash barrel. After the trashman emptied our barrel, the winds would blow it into the ditch, especially annoying when the snow was deep. Every couple of years the cost went up.
As retirement loomed, I came up with a plan to reduce trash output. All edible trash went into the compost bin. Burnable trash got burned. Tin and plastic got recycled in Roseau. Glass had to be transported in Thief River Falls, requiring a half-day long bottle run. A jolly affair. That left a small residue that went into the kitchen trash barrel and was carried to the bins of Roseau town as described above.
All of these ploys had their negatives. The contents of the compost bin needed to be turned and dampened frequently in order to produce compost. I'm breaking the law by burning my trash. It's a little brighter for recycling. The plastic we put in bins is recycled as is the tin and aluminum. The glass we haul to Thief River is also recycled. So I'm happy about that.
The final category, the non-edible, non-burnable, non-recyclable stuff has me playing rag and bone man in reverse. I know my two or three bags per week will end up in the landfill. Eventually the landfill will be covered over. Grass and trees will grow. Maybe someone have a picnic there. My hope is that they are mindful about their trash.
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| Oh! Calcutta! |
1 comment:
What is it about Palmsville that inspires confessional literature? WannaskaWriter is the master of this genre.
We do what you do, too.
We are not alone. While waiting for JPS to emerge from the Warroad school pool at 7:00am, I sit in the car facing the back lot of Lake Country Chevrolet Buick where the company dumpster is located. On a typical day, I see at least three employees and one or two regular citizens pulling up to chuck their debris into the maw.
Something tells me that the Biden administration is not yet ready to add waste removal services to its infrastructure proposals...
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