Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Recycling


MrsM likes to encourage responsibility,
she believes it enables personal development
resulting in greater self confidence.

MrM is in charge of sorting the recycling.
There is a blue box for glass and tins,
a black box for plastics and cardboard.

Every week MrM asks:
"What goes in the blue box?
What goes in the black box?"


Every week MrsM replies
slowly and carefully
"The clinky-clanky stuff
goes in the blue box and
the squishy-squashy stuf
goes in the black box."


MrsM remains optimistic
that MrM will learn.
Eventually.

21 comments:

  1. As my sister likes to say when i declare (attempting irony)that i have a mind "like a steel trap":
    "That's right. Nothing in, nothing out."

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  2. Would labels 'squishy squashy' and 'clinky clanky' help?
    (Still slightly concerned that he might try to crush glass and tins with his mighty fists though.)

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  3. life was a lot simpler when all one had to do was to put the bin out ... now I am expected to think

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  4. I never expected to see people talking rubbish on here..........

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  5. I should show MrM OUR complicated recycling (we have organic, glass, plastic and tins, paper, OTHER, yes, other) ... took me a couple of weeks to learn and then ... I MUST explain it to guests in 10 different apartments each week.
    Care to join me?

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  6. Mrs M - I have the answer - label the boxes :)

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  7. My husband also does the recycling - it results in constant conversations while he holds up items and says 'can I recycle this'? and I say 'yes/no' or 'read the flippin' bag/leaflet'!

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  8. MrM, you sound like my husband. I am sure you can remember which box is for what. You just like winding MrsM up don't you? Admit it.

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  9. Recycling - the bane of my life. We sort of do it together, when the garage gets to heaving point. HE glares at me, mutters under his breath and sighs. I wonder if it may mean he may take the task over, given that his sorting skills are far superior to mine. So far nothing doing. I live in hope.

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  10. My issue is this: I turn on the shower and the temperature feels just right. I get in, and decide it's maybe too hot or cold. But...I can't remember which way to turn the taps for warmer or colder! I ending gettingscorched or frozen. What is the matter with me!!!! I obviously need a MR M standing by to help...

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  11. Ah, but does he squash down the squishy squashy stuff to make the filling of said bin more voluminous?

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  12. It's simple here in Tuvalu:
    paper goes in the empty wine crate whilst the empty wine bottles go in the plastic bin.

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  13. It's endless fun here too with different colours of sack as well as box, bins etc...

    Oh and I live separately so he has to do his own recycling. I checked his effort once - he was sending recycling to the landfill site!

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  14. I wonder where recycling fits on Maslow's hierarchy - my mind is normally on other things

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  15. It sounds like the system in my house which often results in me having to retrieve items from various bins and then having to redistribute them. i think they do it to give me something to do!

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  16. I am married to a before his time recycler! We sorted and rinsed long before it was mandatory. After many years of "plastic goes in the bin on the right" he quietly pulls all my empty water bottles from waste paper bins all over the house and puts them in the bin to the right on trash night. I fear MrM and I may share an undesirable trait: Some old dogs just don't care to learn new tricks.

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  17. All sounds v familiar .... sigh ... maybe we need pictures on the bin?

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  18. The Recycling Life got easier here a couple of years ago when we were told to put all types of recycling in the same bin. (But no food waste is collected, so it goes out to the compost pile.) Still feels odd to mix paper with everything else, though.

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  19. Mr M I completely understand.
    I'm fine when the boxea are in action but when they have been emptied and I have my first paper or tin I hav eto refer eto the leaflet magnetised to the fridge.

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  20. My mother tells a rueful tale of trying to get my stepfather to make sure there was always bread in the house. She thought he needed more responsibility - the bread was meant to be the first, simple step.

    He never mastered even the bread. Sorry.

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