Or at least I try to. In Michigan, we have a ten cent deposit tax on many bottles and cans, but it's pretty much beer and pop that concern me. I don't drink those energy drinks because I am completely convinced that they will kill me. So there's that. Anyway, it's always fun for me to return these returnables and receive a lovely little voucher in return. It's free money, you guys!
Since moving in with Mike (almost a year ago, wow), I've tried to be more cognizant of what I save, what I toss, and what I recycle.
We drink a LOT of bottled water, and I feel guilty about it. I recycle those bottles religiously, even though they fill up that bin so quickly you'd think that we were living in the Sahara or something. And then there's the beer. I like cider, and those bottles, for some reason, do not have a deposit. They are glass, and thus, they are recycled.
And when my parents visit, there is wine. There is always wine.
And when Mike's buddies come over, there are more bottles of beer than I can count. Except that I do count them. As I am a frugal little bitch, I see the dimes piling up as each bottle cap hits the counter. And returning them? It's like an arcade game that you CAN'T LOSE. It's so exciting, you guys. You put the can in, and PING! Ten cents! Put another can in? PING! TEN CENTS.
And honestly, if I was still living in hippieville Ann Arbor, I'm willing to bet that I would have been fined for not recycling MORE. I threw away an occasional aluminum can when I didn't feel like rinsing it out and peeling off the label, but I never threw away pop cans. Pop cans = money.
But I now live elsewhere, and they are recycling racists.
No colored glass, eh? RACISTS.
So that's the story of how I cart recyclable green and brown wine and beer bottles to my parents' house twice a month. Which probably uses more energy and gas and pollutes more than it would if I just threw them in the trash, but I HAVE PRINCIPLES.