Recycling Lethargy

I cannot afford to be tired of recycling because I eat. I cannot eat if I don’t push a grocery cart and in it are things like cans and bottles that end up in the thrash can, under the kitchen sink.

I must recycle because I’m the problem. I buy things that cannot be absorbed by mother earth like banana peels, pumpkin seeds, fresh corn leaves, or the avocado heart. City Hall steps in and finds way of incinerating cans, plastic bags, foam core and other thrash I bought at the grocery and clothing store. That process pollutes the air.

It is their job. That’s fine, but it starts with me in the kitchen. City Hall can only do its job effectively if I sort my thrash. They supply the blue boxes to make recycling easier. I must do my part. Sometimes I doubt if my efforts make a difference because we throw regular thrash in the blue boxes and empty washing liquid bottles in regular thrash. You see, we don’t have time to do the right thing. Time? We must make time, otherwise by the time climate change is done with us, bears will come down from their home we made ice-less and eat us, while walking to the grocery store to buy more things to pollute the environment.

I cannot afford to be lethargic about recycling. It’s not much. It only takes ten minutes of my time. It is also for peace of mind when I’m dead. I’ll be dead and gone when it comes to a point where kindergarten kids wear masks permanently. I don’t want them cursing me in my grave, where I will be taking a permanent nap.

Nonqaba waka Msimang

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