I decided yesterday to pitch out about three years’ worth of old magazines, and rather than toss them into the trash, I opted to haul them to the nearest Paper Retriever, a large green (of course) bin located at various schools and churches around town. The idea is that a recycler (specifically, these guys) will come and pick up the detritus and pay the organization for collecting it.
Last time I’d done this, I’d gone to Sequoyah School on 36th, but I noticed on the commute home this past week that St. Stephen’s, a Presbyterian church on 50th, had installed a Retriever, and they’re closer to me, so I headed out to their parking lot.
And the bin, as tall as I and even wider, was full. My normal procedure is to insert the container (usually a copy-paper box) into the opening, turn it 135 degrees, and then withdraw the container. There wasn’t enough room for the box; I barely managed to cram the contents of a single grocery bag into the space remaining. Either the Retriever hasn’t retrieved here lately, or there’s been a sudden upsurge in paper recycling in these parts.
So I drove off to Sequoyah, where the remaining paper (two boxes, three bags) was consigned to the bin.
Tangential arachnid story: When I went out to the car to load up all this stuff, there was a small black spider crawling across the spoiler. I generally prefer not to bother spiders, but this was work, dammit, so up came the trunk lid. It took me three trips to finish the job. I pulled down the lid, and there was the spider, still doing its slow crawl.
And despite occasional raindrops and 25-mph winds, the spider was still there when I got to St. Stephen’s, though at some point during the unloading attempt it departed.