According to Hofmann: The Great Recycling-Bin Caper
I remember as a kid either going to a museum, a doctor鈥檚 office or a haunted attraction (yes, I realize those three locations have nothing in common to cause me any confusion, but stay tuned) and while I was there, I really took notice of a life-like (so to speak) skeleton and thought it was creepy.
Maybe it was at the haunted attraction.
Anyway, someone then told me that inside everybody鈥檚 body is a skeleton. I don鈥檛 know if I was given that information to make me less scared or to completely horrify me.
You see, on the one hand, a skeleton is a natural thing that all mammals have inside of them; on the other hand 鈥� There鈥檚 a Freaking Skeleton Bony Hand Inside My Other Hand!!!
Maybe it was the doctor鈥檚 office, because who else would want to tell a kid of that?
Anyway, you can see how a revelation like that can fracture such a young and impressionable mind, which is why I鈥檝e avoided visiting museums, haunted attractions, doctor鈥檚 offices and sandboxes, which is another story for another time.
Nothing since then has caused such a rupture in my thought process 鈥� until someone stole my recycling bin.
Now, I have to admit, it may have been my fault as I get easily distracted, and I forgot to bring the empty bin up from the curb for a couple of few days after the recycling was picked up.
Upon discovering that this heinous crime took place, my initial reaction was to swear and then kick something 鈥� normally kicking the recycling bin because it was pretty sturdy and went a good distance when punted. That anger quickly passed, turning into something of a confused and potential misplacement of anger.
You see, someone who steals a recycling bin would more than likely need it because they want to recycle something, they want to do some good for the environment and no laws about stolen property are going to get in their way of that.
So, a part of me kind of has to admire their dedication to recycling, which far outweigh my recycling efforts.
To me, recycling was a routine done once every other week to take it to the curb with the garbage 鈥� just like brushing my teeth, showering and and paying bills 鈥� all of which I also do at the curb with the garbage.
I almost feel like a fraud in comparison to those thieves or thief, even though they鈥檙e conniving, tree-hugging hippie criminals.
I also had to wonder if the thief or thieves didn鈥檛 even know if they were thieving or thiefing because they may have been under the impression that I was leaving the recycling bin out on the curb because I didn鈥檛 want it; therefore, it was free for anyone to take (a.k.a. The Law of Curbside Gains).
The tragedy is that I鈥檝e relied on the Law of Curbside Gains to get rid of many household items the garbage man won鈥檛 take, but little did I know it would also burn me with a stolen recycling bin.
Live by the sword, die by the sword, I guess.
Then again, part of that law states, because I make this stuff up as I go along, that a sign should accompany the said item placed to the curb for such Curbside Gains.
Those signs normally have things written on them like 鈥淔ree,鈥� 鈥淭ake鈥� or 鈥淣on Toxic鈥 Think.鈥�
Once my inner turmoil over the recycling bin went away, I had to look at the bright side as I was left to think of the advantages of not having a recycling bin.
First, people driving by will not know how much alcohol I consume on a bi-weekly basis, which means I can finally make eye contact with my stepdaughter鈥檚 bus driver again as the last time I looked at her, she was shaking her head in disapproval. I even held up a beer as a peace offering, but she said it鈥檚 鈥渢he morning,鈥� 鈥渄angerous鈥� and 鈥渋llegal鈥� and she鈥檚 鈥渃alling the cops鈥� 鈥� sheesh! I try to be nice, and that鈥檚 the thanks I get.
Second, it鈥檚 one fewer thing to take to the curb on trash day. I鈥檓 fat and lazy. Enough said.
Third, I can finally look like a bad-ass rebel to my neighbors as they look over at my recycling-binless curb and me flipping down my clip-on sunglasses and giving off the vibe that says, 鈥淭hat鈥檚 right. I don鈥檛 recycle鈥nd I鈥檓 not trimming that bush until next summer either. Deal with it, reverend.鈥�
Ah, well, it鈥檚 nice to fantasize, but I鈥檒l likely just get a new bin and continue to do my small part (a bit larger part when beer is on sale during football season) to reduce waste and help the environment.
As for any recycling-bin thieves roaming the neighborhood, be warned. I may not have a scarecrow to keep you away, but I do have a skeleton, and I know where it is.
It鈥檚 on the curb with a sign around its neck that reads, 鈥淣on Toxic鈥 Think.鈥�
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, 鈥淕ood Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One 鈥� and Dying, Too鈥� and 鈥淪tupid Brain,鈥� are available on Amazon.com.