Trash Talkin

This past week I got a phone call from my landlord, and upon seeing his name on the caller ID, my heart sank. It’s never a good sign when your landlord is calling you. Either something is broken, something is infested with rodents or insects, or you’re being evicted. So, it was with an apprehensive gulp that I meekly answered the phone.

He informed me that there has been an issue with someone in the building has not been recycling their trash. Now, there are only three apartments in this building, so there are only a few people who could possibly be the guilty party and only a few other people I could try to pass the blame onto.

I was the guilty party. I fully admit that I was not recycling my trash. Apparently I am the only person in this city that wasn’t aware of the fact that residents here are required to recycle their trash. How on earth I made it eight and a half years without knowing this is beyond me, but somehow it wasn’t until he called and tore me a new asshole that I crawled out from my dark and comfortable cave and learned that saving the planet isn’t only the decent thing to do, it’s the law.

And once I actually took a second to think about it, I was shocked that I wasn’t recycling already. I like to consider myself a somewhat environmentally aware person. One of the great aspects of going Vegan, aside from the obvious animal rights issues and health benefits, is that it is such a great thing to do for the environment as well.

So, shame on me!

But back to the landlord’s call. He said he had gotten complaints from the city that this building was not recycling properly and were threatening to fine him if it continued. But the city apparently wasn’t the only person complaining…

“Nick, the man who lives on the first floor is tired of having to sort through your trash in order to separate the recyclables out. He shouldn’t have to do that.”

Umm…

I have a few problems with that statement.

First of all, why on earth is the man on the first floor sifting through my trash in the first place? That’s just creepy and disgusting. If he’s going to be doing that, he deserves to be playing around in Miss Jackson’s dirty litter.

Second of all, if the man on the first floor is going through my trash and separating it for me, and there are STILL complaints coming from the city that the recycling isn’t happening, then maybe he isn’t separating it well enough, and he should be the one to blame.

And lastly, it needs to be said again. That’s just gross.

Naturally, as much as I wanted to, I didn’t mention any of those to the landlord. I simply apologized and assured him that it wouldn’t happen again and thanked him for bringing it to my attention, because I honestly didn’t know that it was something I was supposed to be doing.

I went online and found some information on recycling on the city’s sanitation website. I printed out some documents that list what is and what isn’t recyclable. I’ve posted them on the refrigerator next to the trash so that I will not be throwing away things I shouldn’t. And it’s a good thing I’ve got those lists, because some of the things on them are things I would have completely overlooked, like the cardboard tube in the rolls of toilet paper for example. And had I overlooked them, it would just be a matter of time before the landlord showed up at my door with a fine for me to pay.

The only issue I am having with this new recycling thing is a decor one. I now have to have three trash bags at once. One for trash, one for paper recycling and one for plastics and glass. My apartment isn’t all that spacious, so I’m having a bit of a problem finding a way to have all of these without taking up too much space or being an eyesore. As of now, I just have three bags of trash sitting in the corner of my kitchen. I would love to find a cute little device that has a space for all three types of trash, but that blends in nicely with a normal kitchen appearance. But until then, I think I’ll just try to find a way to store them all under the sink. Out of sight, out of mind.

I took my first bag of recyclables out to the trash a couple days ago, and, so far, I haven’t heard anything from the landlord or the creepy man on the first floor, so I’m hoping that means I did it correctly and everything is going to be fine now. And not only is my conscience now clean, but the planet is going to be a little cleaner now too.

You’re welcome, my children’s children.