So I’m walking into the confessional, head down and full of contrition.You, dear readers, are not my priest, but I’m coming clean anyway.I have not broken The Compact, so am not under the cloud of mortal sin.But it’s the little, menial, venial things that get us, right?The past week or so I’ve slipped, not necessarily in my determination, but in my execution of my idealistic green existence. I stopped washing out the dang cat food cans — they’re going into the trash. They’re just gross and I don’t want that stuff in the drain of my kitchen sink.I keep forgetting the stupid all-natural burlap, eco-friendly shopping bags. I had five of them, but where are they? I don’t have a clue. They are never in the right place at the right time, kind of like an umbrella.We had takeout pizza last week and went to McDonalds, so we contributed to some packaging waste. My son wanted to play on the McDonald’s playground. I can’t let him play on the indoor playground without buying food there.We both wanted the pizza, but we both already paid the penance.While I was paying for the pizza, my son snatched a piece of old-fashioned pink bubble gum out of a “Take One” jar on the counter and I didn’t see him. The gum ended up in his hair. Major struggle, real tears, it really wasn’t worth the pizza. Good thing I had beer.I am responsible for three paper Starbucks cups from coffee I consumed on deadline for stories or while covering endless Vero Beach City Council meetings. And one paper bag which contained a yummy piece of lemon cake. And a plastic container that almost kept an egg salad sandwich fresh. Yeah, suffered for that egg salad sandwich, too. You think I’d learn.Let’s see, the rabbit got loose, twice — then we caught her — then she got loose again, yesterday. I guess we are bad rabbit keepers. She currently has the run of the back yard and I have to catch her before I set the veggies out in the garden-in-bag system or she will eat everything we’ve grown.The day after I took those nice pictures of the vegetable plants in the greenhouse, some unknown insect got to about half the bean plants and chewed the leaves to pieces.My son decided to take a bowl and scoop some of the rotting material out of the compost bin and sneak it into his bedroom. There was this smell — the only way I can describe it is the zoo on a hot day at noon — and I just couldn’t find it, couldn’t get rid of it. It was driving me insane.This morning, he said he wanted to show me his rock collection, which is in a basket in the underneath part of his loft bed. I got down on my knees to see the rocks and the smell hit me in the face. There is a plastic salad bowl full of rotting table scraps, complete with flies. He had it covered up, that’s why the mysterious smell kept coming and going and I couldn’t find it. It has been removed post-haste and I burned some patchouli incense in there and disinfected. So now the apartment smells like a Saturday night at the Renaissance Faire, but it’s better than the zoo.Moral of the story, no composting inside the apartment.Other than that, it’s been a textbook experience.39 days down, only 326 to go.Someone else might have to save the world this year.Yes, my Valentine from a previous blog post is enjoying this — thoroughly.
