On Becoming a Trash-Conscious Shopper
When I was in college, I used to go for drives to clear my head before I had a paper to do or before I sat down to study. The school I attended was three hours from my hometown, so, especially at first, I would just marvel at the landscape. The area where I grew up was full of trees and tall hills; the landscape surrounding college was, by comparison, incredibly flat. Any elevations were smaller, "rolling," I believe is the term most often used.
It was on one of those drives that I saw a most unusual hill. It was taller and in kind of a pyramid shape, unlike the other rolling ones in the area. Squares of sod grass covered it, which was obvious as each square seemed to be a different shade of green.
This, I could tell, was not a natural feature of the landscape. As I wondered what is was and why it was there, I saw a sign that told me all I needed to know; this behemoth out in the middle of the prairie was the county landfill. Buried beneath that sod was piles and piles of trash.
I wish I could say that I went back to my dorm and immediately changed my habits, but I didn't. Despite how I felt in that moment, I still didn't give much thought to where my used shampoo bottles, soda cans, cereal boxes, butter tubs and other discarded items wound up.
That is not the case anymore. These days, what winds up in my garbage concerns me very much. I love the idea behind convenience packaging, for instance, but several wrappers of single-serving items — which are always slow-to-break-down plastics — will wind up in my garbage can. So I seek out recyclable containers and if I do buy something that's plastic, I opt for a large jar of it rather than the single-serving packages.
I know I could better. A lot better, in fact. But I'm getting there.
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It was on one of those drives that I saw a most unusual hill. It was taller and in kind of a pyramid shape, unlike the other rolling ones in the area. Squares of sod grass covered it, which was obvious as each square seemed to be a different shade of green.
This, I could tell, was not a natural feature of the landscape. As I wondered what is was and why it was there, I saw a sign that told me all I needed to know; this behemoth out in the middle of the prairie was the county landfill. Buried beneath that sod was piles and piles of trash.
I wish I could say that I went back to my dorm and immediately changed my habits, but I didn't. Despite how I felt in that moment, I still didn't give much thought to where my used shampoo bottles, soda cans, cereal boxes, butter tubs and other discarded items wound up.
That is not the case anymore. These days, what winds up in my garbage concerns me very much. I love the idea behind convenience packaging, for instance, but several wrappers of single-serving items — which are always slow-to-break-down plastics — will wind up in my garbage can. So I seek out recyclable containers and if I do buy something that's plastic, I opt for a large jar of it rather than the single-serving packages.
I know I could better. A lot better, in fact. But I'm getting there.
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