The Best of Intentions

I generally start things with the best of intentions in mind. Case in point- My effort to save the world. Ahem, through recycling. Anything else would require far too much of me, as I would not want to go all Super Saiyan Warrior with my entourage (Carlton Banks, Buzz Lightyear, $5 Footlong) in tow.

So, I go all "green" (only in my head), and forbid the family from throwing away much of anything so we can reduce our carbon footprint. I set up the Team Jo Recycling Center in the garage, and I sit back and smile, with that warm aroma of accomplishment fresh in my nostrils.

Oh wait... That's not accomplishment, that's GARBAGE!!! Why did no one tell me that recycling stinks like a dead hippie??? Holy Shitballs!! It also attracts ants!!! Did I mention it stinks like a dead prostitute? Where did all these FLIES come from????? SERIOUSLY DUDE!
Don't even get me on the composting. It seemed like a FINE idea to simply pile up all my eggshells, vegetable scraps, and coffee grounds with leaves in the back yard to replenish the earth;s nutrient fortified goodness. I'm saving the earth! After all, I have a friend who told me that vegetarians' farts don't stink, so how bad could it be? BTW- That is total bullshit. Carlton Banks is a vegetarian, and his poots (spell check tried to change this word into poets, haha!) stink like all hell. I'm just saying.......
So, here I am with eight garbage bags of recyclable shit that I keep forgetting to take to the center (because its so damn inconvenient; why cant they do pickups?) in my garage like I'm some crazy hoarder lady with 27 cats, and the earth is no better off than when I started digging through my own trash, and not for profit to boot.
How do I know? That over fished Chilean sea bass I ate for lunch was great. And when the server brought out my leftovers in FOUR Styrofoam containers..... SIGH.