I recycle. Not as much as I used to, or plan to again in the future. Life took a weird turn and to make a long story short [too late] I am not as…on top of the whole recycling thing as I wish anymore. But, I still make an effort. My confidence lies in my original beliefs; I will be back on track in the future. Yes.

In the meantime, I manage somewhat haphazardly. But manage still. One of the most irritating things about Living in Connecticut and being a recycling is the fact that, unlike many other states, we still have a “bottle bill” law. Shit this is getting boring, even as I review my facts.

The other afternoon, I decided to do the one thing I promised myself I’d do over the school break, besides eat and sleep and read: Clean Out My Car. It’s a circus that imitates other parts of my life, and the biggest obstacle turned out to be the bottles I’d driving around with a scary amount of time. I and my former We don’t drink much beer, at least anymore, having graduated to (a phrase that made me look really bad so I just deleted it because sarcasm doesn’t always translate via my interweb skills) so it’s only every few months that I end up having to return soda and beer bottles for the incredible awesome reward of five cents each.

Bottom line: it sucks and the benefits don’t seem to outweigh the costs. I do NOT mind dragging my recycling out to the street on trash night. Prepping empty peanut butter jars, rinsing out pickle jars…it’s almost fun compared to standing in a cold 6×12 grocery store annex containing five bottle redemption machines, three of which are broken; the smell a cross between Very Old beer and Cheerio throw-up. The only person authorized to repair the jammed “Glass” machine is an ex-con who has to be paged over the loudspeaker from his hideout in the back by the dumpsters and he is reluctant to say the least.

The weird thing is, in college, and someone back me up on this…returning bottles was kind of…fun. Maybe it was the sheer volume that promised us an impressive sum each weekend, a stupid mind game of “deposit” and “redemption” that made us think we were somehow saving money, when all we were doing was…not wasting more. It all went straight back to Latham wine & spirits, or whatever it was at the time.

Fast forward to now. A generous combination of fear, disgust and panic arose last week when I returned bottles for the first time in months. The realization that the cuffs of my jeans, resting softly on the concrete floor were quietly soaking up the filth in which I stood left me speechless, stupid.

More on this. Or, Moron: this. Will be soon. Loveya audience in my mind.

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