On the evenings before trash pickup day, you can tell who are the party animals on our street by the clinking of beer bottles in their recycling containers as they are taken to the curb. You may not know the brand but you know which of the neighbors had a really bad week, or a really good one, based on the amount of noise late Tuesday nights.
This week we put THREE bins out, two more than the norm. Anybody driving by tomorrow morning is going to think we must have hosted the fete to end all fetes when they see the trio of receptacles filled with glass, aluminum and plastic. The stir it will cause! “Did you hear that middle-aged couple threw a rager? They had THREE recycling bins out!!!”
Before TMZ arrives to root through our trash, there was no crazy shenanigans: no stair sliding, no beer pong, no quarters. There was, instead, two old people trying to stay hydrated in heat indexes of 100 degrees and two weeks worth of saving the earth to be done since we were away last week.
Recycling our youth is nice to think about but my arthritic knee would never make it down those stairs and even with his cheaters reading glasses my husband wouldn’t stand a chance at quarters. Our best partying days may be behind us but our water bottles of today just may be the beer pong cups of tomorrow.
