... that neighbor.
You know the one that everyone peeks through their blinds at. The one that is the catalyst for head shaking and perhaps the occasional gawker. But I can't help it. I am forced into action.
And this morning, the rubber hit the pavement. With dog, plastic bag and rubber gloves in tow, I became the neighborhood trash collector. Being an avid walker/jogger in the area, I spend many mornings being in the environment. There is just something about candy wrappers, perfectly recyclable beer cans, and fast food wrappers that get my goat when the grass and flowers are attempting to be aesthetically pleasing.
Furthermore, I am sad. I am sad that there is such thoughtlessness behind the litter. I want to punch someone... or maybe give a speech... or maybe organize a team of folks to help pick up litter along the sidewalks and local roadways once a month.
No no no, I won't turn into the litter nazi. But it does hurt my heart a little... to see broken beer bottles and plastic bags just chilling in the ditch. Not only because it is ugly, but because it affects many things around it. We take up enough space just by developing our need for things and square footage... why continue to think that the world is our trash can?
Soap box set aside... I know I am not the only one who sort of likes green grass and clean spaces. Find your soap box too. Scrub away. Grab a plastic bag and start collecting.
And if you're too embarrassed... wear sunglasses and a hat.
