|Right hand corner is drop off for sorting. Left hand corner is for recyclable disposal. Under the wall socket on the counter, left of the disposal pile, is the recyclable box,|
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
It’s Your Job!
It’s Your Job!
Whenever I post on the strange behaviors of Mrs. Cranky, I am not necessarily complaining. Some of her “different” habits merely interest me, they do not bother me.
One that has me baffled is the separating and disposal of recyclable paper, particularly mail, flyers, papers, and leaflets. All mail, flyers, papers and leaflets are left on the kitchen table for perusal. Mrs. Cranky goes through these items and determines which are junk and need to be placed in the recyclable box. It is my job to place them in the box.
Not complicated, not unusual, unless you are privy to the flow of this whole process.
All mail, flyers, papers and leaflets are dropped off on said kitchen table by whomever brings in the mail from the mail box, driveway or front door. The recyclable paper bin is a cardboard box on a counter about three yards from the kitchen table drop off spot. Mrs. C takes those items destined for disposal, rips them in half and leaves them about two feet from the drop off spot, to another corner of the table, the designated disposal area, where it is my job to move the recyclable trash another two feet to the recyclable disposal box.
It is not as if, mind you, I am at the table when she is sorting the mail, flyers, papers and leaflets. That might make sense. She sorts, rips and then hands them to me to drop in the disposal box. No, that is not the way of things. The sorting and ripping are done by Mrs. Cranky when I am not around. You would think she could simply set aside the disposables and after sorting and ripping pick them up and reach over another two feet to drop in the disposal box. You would think wrong.
It is apparently my job to discard recyclables, so they are left for me to see the next time I am at the table. It is up to me to pick up those torn recyclable papers, reach over and drop them in the disposal box.
When I ask her why she doesn’t just drop them in the box herself her answer without hesitation is,
“It’s your job.”
It is not a problem, I don’t mind, I’m not always a jerk.
I do find it interesting.