A place for everything, and everything in its place.
That’s my motto. Car stereo goes in post tidy; wheel lock key stays in car door; remote controls go in round wooden box; mini pot of sudocream stays in bathroom tray.
With recycling though I’m not fussed where things go. Indigo spends ages sorting it all out and bagging up the plastics, papers and cans. She doesn’t know I dump the lot in the green bin.
It’s all pointless. Everyone knows the entire recycling industry is one big con and that global warming is a myth too. More people should read Michael Crichton’s “State of Fear” – then everyone can cool down a little.
To the doomsayers I say this:
There’s nothing we can do to change it so we might as well use as much electricity/petrol/gas as we possibly can and send as much plastic crap to landfill as we want.
“Indigo,” I say, “it’s pathetic switching off the plugs of the kettle and microwave at night. It makes no difference.” She doesn’t dare turn off the Sky box at the plug or I get really pissed off and have to re-set it.
Talking of heated atmospheres, whenever I voice my environmental opinions Indigo mounts her high horse (the only thing she gets to mount).
She says “you’re simply too lazy to bother and that’s the truth of it.” She says that about my unwillingness to father a second child and on this, she is right.
