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it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood | Letters From Home it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood | Letters From Home

Letters From Home

Life looks at infmom / infmom looks at life

it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood


It’s a glorious day out there today.  I had trouble sleeping last night, so I woke up late, but felt good when I did wake up.  The cats were snuggled around me and the baby house finches were cheeping in their nest under the awning.

F’zer got up early to go to an all-day meeting, and Vengeant was in his room doing whatever Vengeants do, so the house was pretty quiet when I finally decided to get my lazy fanny out of bed.  I took a nice long shower and ate a really late breakfast and as the song says, everything’s going my way.

So I don’t feel too bad about the fact that the cat box needs cleaning and something I can’t find in the kitchen smells.  I will get that all cleaned up today and will no doubt enjoy it.

Still, smushing down the garbage in the kitchen wastebasket and putting it by the cat box to remind me to scoop the box before I take out the trash reminded me that F’zer’s beloved compost container is overflowing (I checked, though, that’s not what smells).  And that got me to musing about F’zer’s…  um, dedication to recycling.

OK, let’s say it, F’zer is a NUT about recycling.  I mean, and I truthfully am not making this up, when he saw that story on the news about the kid who claimed that his teacher made him pee in a Gatorade bottle, the first comment out of F’zer’s mouth was “And he just threw the bottle in the trash instead of rinsing it out and recycling it!”  F’zer will go through a wastebasket that is 90% wads of tissue and 10% subscription cards from magazines and carefully separate out the cards so they can be recycled.  He doesn’t want to throw anything out that he thinks we could recycle or donate to the Salvation Army, and I have had to explain to him that the Salvation Army only wants good, resellable stuff, not worn-out items  that might possibly still have use as a rag for wiping off a greasy oil dipstick, if you weren’t too concerned about whether the oil actually stuck to the rag.  (It goes without saying that we have a large plastic bin in the laundry room into which remnants of old towels and underwear and worn-out socks get carefully stashed for use as rags, and I have had to put my foot down to keep him from trying to wash every dirty rag he ever uses.  At least he no longer brings bags of rags home from work to wash.)

We have a compost bin in the side yard even though we have no garden upon which to put the compost.  If he catches me putting the slimy remains of an old bag of precut salad mix into the trash, he will remove it and insist it should go in the compost.  Ditto for egg shells and coffee grounds.

Which is why, this morning when I finished putting the coffee through the Aeropress and found no more room in the compost container, it felt so deliciously wicked to just drop all those coffee grounds in the trash.

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Author: infmom

Otherwise known as Infamous Mom.

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