Requiem for the Glass or Portland Would be Ashamed

I have a really deep, dark and shameful admission to make.

Last Friday I threw away glass. Into the garbage. Not broken drinking cup glass (though we've done plenty of that) but glass that's been molded into kombucha bottles, fizzy water bottles and candle jars.

It felt wrong. More wrong than keeping our furnace blasting at 75 degrees. Worse than driving 10 miles every day to go to the store. Even more heinous than using plastic bags to catch the fruit and veggie refuse when I make my morning juice (Seriously though, that crime saves me a solid five minutes of juice refuse washing).

Still, despite my foul play against this earthly material, I did it, knowing exactly what I was doing. Instead of respecting the glass by giving it a ride to a recyclery, I changed its fate to live a long, depressing life in a landfill where it will live alongside plastic lids, dirty diapers and food scraps forever.

I can't help but think of the final scenes of Toy Story 3 when all of our favorite characters hold hands while they tumble their way in slow motion into the fiery furnace. I can only imagine the bottles, sprouting glass arms, holding each other and wondering what they did to deserve this. After all, they've done nothing but serve the purpose of holding delicious beverags that hydrated both me and baby.

It's a thought that's too much for my hormonal mind to dwell on.

I can't go through it again. Can't send another shard of glass to an eternal fate of landfill purgatory. That's why my kitchen floor is currently covered with glass, plastic and can-filled paper bags waiting to make their way to a recyclery.

The thing is, I need to find one (In a serious way. Our kitchen is quickly becoming difficult for this waddling woman to navigate in). The bummer drag is that Covington actually HAS a recyling program called "Be A Good Neighbor." However, unlike Portland, the city of Covington and it's partner in recycling, Progressive Waste Solutions, don't reach out to apartment complexes. Like I said, bummer drag.

I think the closest place to go is actually in Cincinnati which means Jason and I get to replace our Saturday morning coffee dates that we coveted in Portland with Saturday morning dump dates.

Woo. Hoo.