Ok it is Monday. Victoria Day Holiday today. It has been very cold this weekend. I
realize it is Monday. I put out the garbage early, about 7:30 am because the collection is usually performed on all stat holidays on my street. However the collectors have not arrived as yet. Not a problem, I will just leave it there. The pickup will be delayed a day or so. Not to worry.
The fact I am only allowed a garbage pail of garbage is fitting with the new policy of recycle the stuff; yet totally unfair to me the harried housewife from hecktalula. Man, this is not fair! Citizens revolt. We are being conned big time!
It really is the manufacturers who just cannot get their act together to make all things recyclable the way it was suppose to be. At least the 70's told me this, Paul Ehrlich's Book, Rachel Carson.
We believed, and want the ideal back, but cannot lie about the truth that our existence unfortunately became. We are here, in the future, our worlds intersecting with the past and future. And to think we were told not to trust our governments in the future. Why?
Keep thinking it is all due to pass-the-buck; but the load on Danny; he aint heavy but he is carrying my poop! Look, it isn't fair putting the oneness on the citizen; "am I just a citizen" entirely unfair. There is no real accountability from the powers that be, no Citizen's Coalitions to protect the citizen, well not really, not as it is suppose to function. The rallying cry is save your own butt at all costs, because this is a megalith we are up against. A gargantuan Goliah to little person, or common man David. We are taught we are everything only to find, in the scheme of things, to the schemers who matter, nothing really, no, not anything.
Evil Monopolies. Multicongomerates that eat Mom and Pops. Cruel future created by strangers in dark rooms, cloaked in secrecy. World from where we are, who and what we are and what we are and destiny's design for our future world. It is here in the midst of fiscal gorillas, uncaring fonts of plastered bohemoth logos a iconic form of the sterile, unfeeling world of corporate iconoclasts.
From this soup the new, yet unrecognizably creul Oscar the Grouch emerges from my recycle bin. This green slime of disease and N1H1 The Swine Flu. Arguably a man-made virus, a Dietrick lab escaped viral attack. Dumbdowned and depersonalized the media witholds critical information for our very survival. A plan? World Wildlife Fund nazis daring 50 year plan come to light? So soon? All too soon it will be the last of man, a world untoward the future that dead in its tracks through the greedy leftover mengalias determined its doom.
We you in me in the safe corporate jacket started falling like flies. Finished bait. Worms turned into meals for worms, not even meal worms. We just didnt or couldnt do anything about the future shaped by forces beyond our reach. No input, no power. A disguised cloak of family-friendly businesses designed to destroy the family compact. One strategic step after another. The stalking spider was hardly recognizable on that wall behind you that soon would collapse from the weight of the spider. "Tear down this wall". Who would need too when that spider does such a great job at demolishion. To me in that organic sludge represents what I am to become and have already begun to smell like. The melamine in the bread, that sticks to my colon, making me unable to function and pass wind. Like Elvis I find myself, after eating too many Gold Rush bacon and peanut butter sandwiches, stuck on the can, screaming for release of the bowels from hell. A planned attack; the ass attack; coming in from the rear. Strategic yet again. Where will the next attack come from? Subtle and stealth. These guys are good at killing us.Zero population by the year 2000? It took another 9 years or so, but it is happening. By accident, default or on purpose it is happening. Sure I'd like to know my enemies true face before I demise.
Back on Primerose Lane: Recyling that takes time and is a mess and stinky could be taking our minds away from the important issues of the day. Like making money. Time is money; this recycling is taking far too much time even for a pack rat or bagman. This whole recycling thing could be done correctly the first time. If only I were a super organized, neat freak with unlimited amounts of cashflow who could withstand taking a good 1/2 hour each day fretting over the recycle cycle. I feel lost in this loop between success and recycling and success at finding function. Function to me, for some reason, is very important. Why do I feel my ability to function is being thwarted, or usurped by the garbage created by excess packaging? The buck should stop at that end, not my end; I did not manufacture these unrecyclable plastics; the scientists did! The scientists should be the ones to solve the problem, not me!
How could I ever remember to put things these essential and element things in the prearranged bins. However hectic life gets things keep getting uncoordinatedly more and more messy and I end up doing too much to correct something that should have gone smoothly from the start. There is too much stop and go, and no flow to the way life should go, as natural as God made us, without too much conscious thought, just knowing we are doing the right thing; from the start, from the press of the "Go" button.
As I have viewed lovely pine bins at the local pine furniture store Billy Pine Cones, I knew I could make it work, someday. The bins are over $100 each for a set of 5 recycling central to my kitchen. It wouldnt even fit in my huge country kitchen on the farm. It is like I have a working factory in my kitchen and I am the factory worker. Come on, it costs more in gas to pickup the crap, why didnt they think of that? They did. This tells me, something more sinister is in the works, this soup of sludge would not taste that good.
Oh. to make life all that much better; simpler and hopefully easier on the mind, soul and body. It is a good feeling to know I am not eating by a garbage pail of hornets buzzing my head. If I should swat those buzzing bruts I would be comatose, too late to complain. The crafty have made fake hornets nests which I will surely purchase this year at Canadian Tire. I just love the idea of burning those beasts in a fire I am not allowed to have, but will imagine, in my mind.
Rumaging in my mind, I keep thinking, why must there be so much leg work, so much carrying this load here, that bin there. To this bin; cans, that bin; plastic, to this other bin; organic waste, to this other other bin; cardboard, to this smaller bin; old batteries. That makes finding string for the cardboard, throwing plastic containers downstairs for a massive coffeemate for all this dang recycling. Sure most of you could relate.
What really ticks me off is the fact my son had put my kitchen organic recycling green shiny and new bucket by the garbage accidentally. He apolgized. It took me a week but I got over it. All is forgiven. The "collectors" "accidentally" took it! I was so miffed and felt stiffed, but again!
As fast as my little legs would carry me, or as soon as I could, I ran to my local dollar store to replace the missing essential item. As usual it took a few days to get to the store, our van being near the end of its life as a van. I went to the dollar store to find another, much cheaper version of my beloved organic waste garbage bin. I will miss the original local logos, and the way it said I am a hero. Nobody has ever called me a hero before, except garbage bags, but they don't count.
Lucky for me I saw exactly what I was looking for; a vision in green! I decided to buy two no make that three of the two dollar each bright flourescent spring green organic wastes bins. What a steal! Although the comical Oscar the Grouch bins could make me look around the room for extra radish ends for any spare Fraggles that may have mistakenly forgotten the best part of the vegetable. Before breakfast the only Oscar was my better have screaming for breakfast which takes so long when I am writing my short story a week.
Back to the boiled eggs. A culinary delight! Protein anyway. Those deviled eggs! Naughty. Luckily they are cheap enough to feed a family on three dollars a day, budgets becoming harried when the bank claws back eighty dollars from a defunct insurance policy. But who is to complain! All just talk with the VP on Tuesday. This day will be gloriously mine, all mine. No matter if the sunglasses are missing, the dog needs out or the meals need to be made. Mommy is on permanent extended vacation in her mind, anyway! Hope you don't mind! jajo