So, the other day as I drove my husband to work and the little girl to preschool, I was having a crisis of faith. Not a huge, “Does God exist?” type crisis, but just a “Tell me everything is going to be okay” type crisis. So, as the hubs was telling me I would find a job soon and everything will work out somehow, and I pulled to the corner to drop him off near the Metro, there on the corner was a giant shredded plastic bag with cans and bottles falling out of it. I mean, it was huge. Enormous. My jaw dropped to the floor, and I, caught in the flow of traffic, had to go around the block as my wonderful husband, dressed in his work clothes, picked up a giant bag of slightly sticky recyclable trash and stuffed it in the back of the car. I don’t know whose it was. Maybe someone left it there for someone else to recycle? Maybe it was discarded from the gas station also on that corner. Maybe it had fallen off a homeless person’s cart, too shredded to transport? I don’t know why, but it felt to me like a sign from heaven. Yes, it’s a bag of trash. But like the day I jogged and found plastic bottles along my path, I love those kinds of coincidences that could be just that, a coincidence, or could be something more.
Thank you, whoever you are, for the gigantically sticky, somewhat shredded pile of bottles and cans. Some were smashed too much for the machine to accept. Some were plastic, but not California Refund Value plastic, some were mangled, but another 93 cans and bottles were pulled from that bag so far. (I can take the smashed ones to the center that will recycle by weight.) Your trash has value to me, and it makes me happy.
Can total before running to the can-by-weight recycle center? 1590.