Did you know I was an equestrienne? For reals. I’ve never actually been on a horse, but indeed, am an equestrienne. I own a high horse. It’s very high. I like to get on it. And when I’m on that high horse I pontificate. Mary Tyler Mom has provided a whole new venue – – my high horse has a new stable, if you will.
Today, high on my high horse, Imma talk about recycling in Chicago. It is a sorry state of affairs, folks, recycling in Chicago. There is much to pontificate about. I could kvetch about living in the “greenest city in America” and still needing to deposit my recyclables at a local blue bin drop center. I can complain endlessly about living in a condo that does not recycle. I could go on and on and on, but that is boring and you don’t want to read that.
Instead, I’ll just post a picture of my local drop center. Sigh. What a freaking shame. Please, Chicago, Urbus en Horto, City in a Garden, Mary Tyler Mom needs you to do better. This is unacceptable. If I gave Mary Tyler Son some cartons to put in our recycling bin and saw this debacle in our pantry my toddler would be getting a time out. And he would learn and he would do better. Chicago? Not so much.
If I were a glass half full kind of gal, I suppose I could rejoice at the abundance of plastic and cardboard spillng out of these blue bins. But at the end of a long day, at the end of a long weekend, I’m not really feeling glass half full. I’m tired, Chicago, I’m busy and over extended. And know that when I say that if I go through the trouble of memorizing which numbers are recycled and which are not, when I diligently wash each and every soda can, yogurt container, and freaking peanut butter jar, is it too much to ask to have a place to put it?
Help me help us, Chicago. Be true to your Latin nom. Empty the freaking blue bins. Please.