What's Old Becomes New Again

Or my fancy way of saying:

I Love Recycling!!

I really do. I love the sorting, the organizing and even the carrying to the curb.  It's Thursday and it is recycling day!  It wasn't always like this.  It all started when B found an extra recycling bin in the back of our building. We claimed it as our own.  Then, I went online and downloaded the guidelines. Yes, I downloaded them. Yes, I refer to them often.  However, I know most of them by heart:

B: Can we recycle the paint cans?

Me: Yes, has to go to the center though, not in the bin.

~~

B: We can't recycle these batteries can we?

Me: Yes, they just need to go into a plastic baggie and placed at the bottom of the bin.

~~

B: Are you planning on taking these hangers to the cleaner?

Me: Nope. They are going in the bin.

I am full of information and excitement for this new gig. B wants no part of it and calls it my "job" and says I am "in charge of it" which I thought meant I had to carry the bin to the curb (I do), not that I would have to follow B around the house to rescue the recyclables (I do that too). B will only remember to recycle about half the time.  This results in my peppering him with questions and statements like these:

"Why are you throwing out that envelope - it can be recycled!"

"That's a plastic bottle in your trash!"

"Where are you going with that cardboard box?"

"The newspaper does not belong in the bathroom trashcan"

B responds with one of these two answers:

"I don't know" which means "recycling is your job, I want no part of it" OR

"Oh" which means "Oh"

B also wants no part of it because he believes that recycling is just a big conspiracy coverup and that they merely collect all your stuff and put it in a big trash pile. Nothing I say can convince him otherwise. Even pointing out that by now someone would have figured this out and uncovered it. Like one of those crazy investigative news teams that follow everyone around.  Nope, B is convinced it is a scam.  He also loves conspiracy theories. Enough said.

This weekend, however, was extra exciting as I had to go to the actual recycling center so that I could give them the huge cardboard box from Black Friday's TV.  B thought that was a great idea and handed me two cans of paint to take with me.  Never having been to the center, I did not know what to expect. 

I love the recycling center!!  Seriously. There are big huge bins everywhere for everything you can think of, all nicely sorted.  Between recycling, diner dash games and my love for the mail, I probably should have been a mail sorter.  But in any event, the center was full of organization, sorting and rules, and, apparently I broke one of them.

Upon driving up to the chemicals section which consisted of a crazy looking shed and a man with a cart, I got out of my car to give him my two small paint cans.  We have the following exchange:

Man: Do you have an appointment?

Me: No. Do I need an appointment [reviewing guidelines in my head and noting they did not mention an appointment to drop off paint]

Man: Yes.

Me: So should I make an appointment?

Man: We have to have appointments because we service 13 different cities [note, I was the only one in front of him at the time]

Me: So should I make an appointment?

Man: Just show me your ID

I did. He took the paint. On a cart. Despite the fact that I was able to carry them with one hand. Now you know since he took the paint, I probably won't make an appointment next time either. As I got out at the next stop - big cardboard box bin, I saw a guy go over to the paint guy with three cans of paint.  And of course he was asked if he had an appointment. The guy thought he might.  No he did not. Yes the guy took the paint.  But he is not going to stop recycling that line about the appointments.  Oh no.

Meanwhile, back at home I tell B about my newfound love for the center and how I am going back this weekend with something.  At that exact moment I look out to see the recycling truck picking up the bins.  This usually happens on Friday when I am at work but with the holiday, it was happening on Saturday.  I took that moment to point out to B that the truck had separated bins in which they were separating the stuff they picked up.  B declared it was all for show, that it was just going into one big garbage pile and they really FOOLED ME.

Yes, I have been fooled.  We all have been fooled.