Operation Recyclables: Status Report
Yet another of my many, MANY far-ranging resolutions involved Dipshit (my roommate) and his recyclables. You see, in a nutshell, in YEARS of living with me (HOW, Lord, HOW?!?!), he has literally not ONCE taken a single glass or plastic item to its rightful place in the BIG RED BIN that resides under the front porch. NOT ONCE. I'd bet he doesn't even know when recyclables go out to the curb -- each Tuesday night. And he CERTAINLY has never actually taken the initiative to TAKE said Big Red Bin out TO the curb from underneath the porch. But those are other issues. I am here merely to rant about the transport of recyclables from my 3rd floor apartment to the outside bin.
Now we have a system. And when I say WE, I naturally mean "I." I have a system. There's a delightfully large walk-in closet off my bathroom hallway. Open the door and my bigass air conditioner sits on the floor to the right. On top of the AC, I long ago put a sturdy department store bag, in which TONS of plastic grocery bags are shoved. Noting the tidy SYSTEM of it all already? For those with a brain, you've guessed right...the IDEA is to take a PLASTIC bag OUT of the bigger STURDY bag, put your recyclable item INTO the plastic bag, PLACE the plastic bag next to the sturdy bag on top of my bigass AC, and then TAKE said plastic bag out to the bin either when it's full or on Tuesday night for collection. Well, let me tell you...Dipshit does NONE of the above. So not ONLY does he not take his cans, bottles, large GALLON containers of water or milk to the bin...well, he doesn't even have the brainpower to follow the CLEAR, DISTINCT pattern of behavior I've so easily set up for him. Does anyone have a blind, 5-year-old, retarded child as a relative? If so, please contact me...because I'm sure THEY could somehow figure out what's supposed to be done in The Recyclable Closet. Yet a grown, vision-able, non-retarded man can't?
Two weeks ago tonight, something snapped, and I decided NO MORE! I was putting one of my own items into the closet when I saw...as usual...Dipshit's items just SITTING there on top of my AC...right next to the sturdy bag FULL of plastic bags. I could make a joke about the Recyclable Fairy ridding our closet of cans, bottles, and plastics in the dead of night, but the bottom line is that he just assumes I'LL put shit into the bags, and I'LL take them all outside to be picked up. And it is BEYOND INFURIATING!!!!!
This is clearly a petty issue, and it's appalling to me that i've just wasted time writing about it (though it's certainly cathartic). It's NOT that much trouble to swipe things into a bag and take it, along with my stuff, to the bin. But that's not the point. It's about principle and, yes, to some degree, it IS about my time. They are seconds of my life that add up...tending to HIS shit. It's about being a FUCKING ADULT and knowing, at the very least, that you should be bringing your recyclables outside. There have even been times when I place the plastic bag full of shit IN the front hallway to be taken to the curb...and he has always walked RIGHT past it. Unfuckingbelievable. THIS is what I live with. THIS is but ONE source of my SUPREME RAGE!
Thirteen items now. Two weeks, 13 items. The top of my AC is now totally covered in recyclables. So tonight, he began utilizing the floor...2 items are now there. TWO weeks and he hasn't caught on yet that, gee, something's off here...these bottles and cans are REALLY adding up like NEVER before! What the fuck?! And I am not budging. And despite everything i've just written, it actually doesn't even bother me that much. It's the Junk Closet. It's not like there's shit all over the living room. So we'll see how long this goes. Will cans pile up to the ceiling? Will this somehow invite bugs? If THAT happens, Gary WILL go ballistic, and Dipshit may not make it out alive. He is an immature asshole who expects to be mothered and has NO concept...truly...of what it takes to properly live on one's own. But i've "released myself" from caring about his cans and bottles. For now.
Now we have a system. And when I say WE, I naturally mean "I." I have a system. There's a delightfully large walk-in closet off my bathroom hallway. Open the door and my bigass air conditioner sits on the floor to the right. On top of the AC, I long ago put a sturdy department store bag, in which TONS of plastic grocery bags are shoved. Noting the tidy SYSTEM of it all already? For those with a brain, you've guessed right...the IDEA is to take a PLASTIC bag OUT of the bigger STURDY bag, put your recyclable item INTO the plastic bag, PLACE the plastic bag next to the sturdy bag on top of my bigass AC, and then TAKE said plastic bag out to the bin either when it's full or on Tuesday night for collection. Well, let me tell you...Dipshit does NONE of the above. So not ONLY does he not take his cans, bottles, large GALLON containers of water or milk to the bin...well, he doesn't even have the brainpower to follow the CLEAR, DISTINCT pattern of behavior I've so easily set up for him. Does anyone have a blind, 5-year-old, retarded child as a relative? If so, please contact me...because I'm sure THEY could somehow figure out what's supposed to be done in The Recyclable Closet. Yet a grown, vision-able, non-retarded man can't?
Two weeks ago tonight, something snapped, and I decided NO MORE! I was putting one of my own items into the closet when I saw...as usual...Dipshit's items just SITTING there on top of my AC...right next to the sturdy bag FULL of plastic bags. I could make a joke about the Recyclable Fairy ridding our closet of cans, bottles, and plastics in the dead of night, but the bottom line is that he just assumes I'LL put shit into the bags, and I'LL take them all outside to be picked up. And it is BEYOND INFURIATING!!!!!
This is clearly a petty issue, and it's appalling to me that i've just wasted time writing about it (though it's certainly cathartic). It's NOT that much trouble to swipe things into a bag and take it, along with my stuff, to the bin. But that's not the point. It's about principle and, yes, to some degree, it IS about my time. They are seconds of my life that add up...tending to HIS shit. It's about being a FUCKING ADULT and knowing, at the very least, that you should be bringing your recyclables outside. There have even been times when I place the plastic bag full of shit IN the front hallway to be taken to the curb...and he has always walked RIGHT past it. Unfuckingbelievable. THIS is what I live with. THIS is but ONE source of my SUPREME RAGE!
Thirteen items now. Two weeks, 13 items. The top of my AC is now totally covered in recyclables. So tonight, he began utilizing the floor...2 items are now there. TWO weeks and he hasn't caught on yet that, gee, something's off here...these bottles and cans are REALLY adding up like NEVER before! What the fuck?! And I am not budging. And despite everything i've just written, it actually doesn't even bother me that much. It's the Junk Closet. It's not like there's shit all over the living room. So we'll see how long this goes. Will cans pile up to the ceiling? Will this somehow invite bugs? If THAT happens, Gary WILL go ballistic, and Dipshit may not make it out alive. He is an immature asshole who expects to be mothered and has NO concept...truly...of what it takes to properly live on one's own. But i've "released myself" from caring about his cans and bottles. For now.
posted by Gregoire at 8:58 PM
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