Trash Police

We have a new trash collection policy here in town, effective on July 1. We already pay a fee for curbside pickup, and it's jumping from $180 to $226 a year. We're also now limited to four 30-gallon containers a week and each can not exceed 50 pounds.

Hence my first question: Is there a scale on the trash truck to determine whether my barrel weights 49 pounds or tips at 51 pounds?

The other part of new policy is what's called "Visual Recycling." If the trash hauler determines through visual inspection that my trash contains material that should be recycled, they won't take the trash.

I am supposed to separate my recyclables and put them curbside in a recycling bin.

I admit I'm not as good about recycling as I should be when it comes to items other than paper. I have a recycling bin hidden nicely under a table in the dining room (the table is covered with a table cloth, so you can't see the bin). The bin is home to newspapers, magazines, flattened food boxes, and paper we generate (if it's sensitive it gets shredded) and anything else I can label as recyclable paper. Once a month (or so) I pull out the bin, bag up the contents, and lug it out to the curb (or smile sweetly at Dave or PJ and ask them to take it out).

Where I fall down is on cans, glass, and plastic. I don't have a place to store these items while we all wait for the next collection day. Sounds lame, but it's the truth. This is a small 6-room house and there's no good place to do it on the main floor. Recycling in the basement isn't particularly convenient. We don't have a garage.

Our trash barrels are on the edge of the property and a favorite target of four-legged woodland neighbors when there's something of particular interest waiting to go away on trash day. If I had a dime for every time we've come out in the morning to find the contents of the trash chewed, shredded and strewn across the yard we'd be rich.

In the summer I sometimes have to take to putting garbage in the freezer until trash day, just to keep it "safe" from the raccoons. But that makes the ice cubes smell and taste bad.

We've talked about building a secure enclosure for the barrels for years. Doing so would allow me to be a better recycler because I could go outside with the occasional can or glass bottle.

The excuses are many and all rather silly, but I know I have to do a better job at it. I think a small container of some kind out on our little deck, disguised perhaps as a bench, might do the trick. As long as I can secure the contents, we should do fine.

All of this may be moot. This morning Dave told me that he saw a snake over by the trash barrels yesterday. That news is enough to keep me in the house until a hearse arrives to carry me away. He said it was a small snake. "Small" is in the eye of the beholder. I'm of the opinion that all snakes are large enough to grab me by my ankles and pull me to the ground. It may not otherwise hurt me, but I know at the least it would hiss in my face and say something like, "You think I'm scary? You should meet my uncle Tony Snake-prano. Lady, he'll eat you alive with a nice Chianti."

If only to avoid the snake, I'll find a way to be a better recycler. Where there's one snake there are surely more. And I don't particularly like the idea of the trash police deciding whether I'm following the rules.

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