Also, between the black bin for paper and the blue bin for glass/cans/plastic and the green bin for
As we're both security-minded people, in security-related roles, we shred the shit out of our paperwork before recycling it. I mean, I wouldn't want anyone to know I watched four zip.ca movies last weekend now would I? Since we're so
Its replacement is a pain in the ass. It has all this built in safety shit(tm), including a switch that needs to be depressed by the side of the receptacle in order for the shredding to commence. (My favorite piece of safety shit(tm) however is the pictograph of the guy getting his tie sucked into the shredder with the 'no' circle around it.) Said receptacle is some fake-o leather covered plastic garbage pail which is far too willing to bend itself into the lip of the shredder and avoid engaging the safety switch. Which means I can't process my yardwaste-bag full of really important papers that need to die. On track now!
Saturday I ran around tidying the house, and each time I passed the office I threw a few more papers through the shredder (I tend not to concentrate on one task at a time while cleaning, I prefer to give each room equal simultaneous attention in hopes of a 'tadaaaa!' moment where the cleaning of the entire house completes all at once) Back off track again.
The poor shredder finally filled and refused to shred again. This was after:
- repeated shakes of the contraption, and
- once or twice I may have reached in and patted the paper down.
I emptied the bin and slammed the shredder head back on. Incorrectly. There are no handles on the shredder head and jamming it on the bin makes me curse this design flaw. As I attempted to remove the top again I managed to drop it and in slow motion (these things always happen in slo-mo don't they?) I watched it tip over and crash into my big toe. Lightning quick reflexes for the win!
Holy hot hell. I cannot remember the last time I caused myself this much pain. I'm fairly sure I've had broken digits that hurt less than this. I mean, once I managed to drag my mangled foot back upstairs, I actually used ice. Ice that did not come from my tears. And I may have
I will teach her to blame recycling for these life-long scars. She, the one I once dreamed would save the Earth from climate change, will grow instead to master conspicuous consumption, wreaking havoc with a carbon footprint that would do the old woman who lived in a shoe proud. (Seriously though, a shoe? Imagine her heating bills! And if you have so many children you don't know what to do I have a suggestion - stop having sex! Where was her husband/partner/lover during these shenanigans? And if she's so old can't her kids go out and get a job in the coal mines?)
As I type this Monday morning, I'm still not able to bend my toe and earlier today I made the happy discovery that driving really does put a lot of pressure on your foot, especially the toe joints. I swear, I'd kick my recycling bins if there was any chance I'd come out unscathed.