Twice something like this has happened, and I'm really starting to wonder when recycling started to require this much organization by the masses. The first time I went with Rich and the kids, and we probably had about seven trash bags full of cans and bottles and there was some crazy line of people waiting to use the self-service machines. Additionally, there is a guy working there who will weigh large amounts of stuff that you separate into big trash cans. Well the first time, we used the machine because that's what was available when it became our turn, but that wasn't without some instruction and aid from fellow recyclers who seem to have felt the need to add their input. This time, Annemarie and I went with thirteen trash bags and this is what went down...

I park the car and get out and get seven of the thirteen bags and walk over to the back of the short line of people waiting, followed by Annemarie with three more bags. Annemarie heads back to the car to get the last three bags, and this man... jeans, t-shirt, open flannel shirt over that with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, beer gut, trucker baseball cap... this man who's been sizing me up since I walked over asks me how I'm doing today? I reply that I'm fine, thanks, and normally, I would ask about him in return, but intuition tells me not to provoke conversation with this man. He takes a dramatic two steps backward from where he's watching me and then walks over and says, "Are you gonna be using the machine, or are you gonna weigh?"

"I think I'm going to weigh," I say, arched eyebrow and all.

"Okay, then you'll be behind her," he regulates as he points to the other woman already separating her items into the big trash cans to be weighed.

Okay, I think... thanks for that clarification. Annemarie gets back with the other three bags. So I start to move all of our bags over closer to where we will ultimately be separating them into bins, and this guy comes over to help us and Annemarie is looking at me like what the hell is this creepy dude's deal?! I say, "Thanks, that was nice of you."

We're now on the other side of a small planter waiting our turn and when the woman in front of us finishes, Annemarie and I both grab a bag and step over and begin to separate cans and bottles and then this man comes over and moves all the rest of the bags over to the other side of this planter. Then, as we get the bins filled and need to move them over so the guy can weigh them, he shoves over empty bins.

I don't know... he was helpful-ish and I said thank you, but really? Like we couldn't have figured out our place in line all on our own? Whatever, $29.94 and a cut on my finger later, I was drinking Strawberry Surfrider and watching a grown man randomly skipping across the crosswalk and down Orangethorpe Ave.

Also, I'm semi-irate that The Principal's Award that Matty got has a major grammar faux-pas on it. Is that wrong? I'm sure the principal, who is a PhD. has a secretary type these things up... but still, it pisses me off when it says ... is being presented the Principal's Award for taking on the 'witches' role in one day and giving an amazing performance.

Really? Sigh... Also, am I really editing the awards my kids bring home from school? I did it with Annemarie's yearbook, too.

All attempts made to rescue me from my 2-11 pm shift at work will be appreciated and rewarded.

Hugs,

Viv