Plus the rain held off and we gathered about eight or nine trash bags of litter with a bunch of amazing neighborhood volunteers. Biggest piece of trash- a huge square of styrofoam. Smallest- well, no competition there, cigarette butts.
I felt we were an anti-littering message just being out there in our orange vests, rain boots, gloves, and huge trash bags. Before letting that trash escape out of your trashcan and blow down the street, think of cute little kids picking it up in six months. That image would deter all but the truly snickering, black-hearted among us. The type that delights in throwing the first half-full beer can out the window the day after Earth Day.
To the black-hearted: whoever you are, wherever you are, you are wasting a lot of beer. Really. Why half-full? Is it better to throw, better aim wise? My friend even found a six pack with three unopened beers attached. Dude, we’re talking some serious slow learners here, wasting booze and the environment in one fell swoop.
Another highlight of the Clean-Up Day is the information we are provided by the non-profit that supplies the gloves, bags, and orange vests. One page is about what to pick up and what to leave the hell alone. They actually recommend not picking up half-full bottles in case they’re bombs or explosive with pressure. Personally, I’m okay with a little risk.
But the other page is about meth labs. How to spot one and what to do if you find one. Every year they hand this out and it intrigues me. I stifle the very, very small wish that I will find a meth lab. Not that I’d start cooking up, but that I could do as instructed and run away quickly and call the police. After a little peek inside of course. No, kidding.
I wish I could see the numbers about how many meth labs are stumbled upon. How common is this? How likely am I to have my very own Breaking Bad drama in my backyard?
Well, the day was a success and now I can focus on my writing. I have a snippet of a YA mystery that I wrote and am editing now. I’ll post it soon, a teaser of sorts. I recently entered it in an open post contest so I’m fine sharing with the wide world of gregorific.
By the way, thanks for being gregorific. It matters. I care. Thanks!
Special Note to ($&*) who was singled out earlier for littering specialty drinks called ‘milk-free Muscle Milk’:
Dear milk-free Muscle Milk drinker and horrible litterer,
I will find you. Beware. I am everywhere. Watching, waiting. I know what you like to drink. And it’s weird. Why do you need milk for your muscles and why must it be milk-free? How is that even possible? I will find out. Even if it means tracking down every weight-lifting, lactose intolerant, I’m sorry I’m going to say it –meathead- out there and smelling their breath for Muscle Milk, and checking their route to the gym, work, or the health food store. I’ll be watching, waiting. When I see that window roll down, and that milk-free Muscle Milk built arm extending out for a pitch into the woods near where I live, I’ll pounce. And until you know the wrath of an eco-conscious housewife who spent hours in an electric orange vest picking up smelly, curdled cartons of mush, then you haven’t seen anything yet. Your milk-free Muscles will not help you when I surreptitiously dial the police and report a non-emergency litter fine zone violation and then dictate your license plate number. Yea, you got it. I’ll git ya. When it comes to heavy lifting, try the Earth, milk-free Muscles. Try the Earth.