I had some free time this morning, and decided to take advantage of that unusual occurrence by taking out the trash. In this household, we recycle, which means we’re supposed to sort, and I thought I remembered my roommate explaining that you really just have to separate out the cardboard. I didn’t want to risk dampening my enthusiasm for the chore by going out in the cold to check the picture-keys on the trash bins, so I just went with that memory. Obviously, I was wrong – it’s meant to be glass, metal and plastic in one bin, and mixed paper and cardboard in the other. I had all the paper in with the metal and plastic, but I just left it like that. I didn’t want to pick through the trash bags again. What happens if you do that? Does the recycling plant explode? Do Recycling Enforcement Agents deduce from your old mail who you are, and come knock on your door to lecture and/or fine you, because recycling just won’t work if everyone is too lazy and squeamish to sort properly? Does Al Gore cry?
I feel simultaneously righteous about making the effort, and guilty about not really making much of an effort. This caps a week of good intentions and poor follow-through. Here are some other lessons I learned from things I screwed up this week:
- When one wants to gently and kindly turn a fellow down for a second date, because said fellow (although basically a nice enough guy) has a serious, long-term girlfriend, but sees no problem in pursuing other women behind her back, the best way to do this is not to say (and I quote): ‘It’s nothing against you; I just have a really fun and easy social life, and I don’t want to infect myself with your bad karma.’ Saying this will not result in a good, firm hug and no bad feelings on either side. Saying this will make things worse.
- Actors improve with age. Not in their chosen vocation, but by a reduction in their overall obnoxiousness as people. Knowing this, one should not leave a job where one works in comfortable surroundings with many old, jaded, mellow and failed actors to go work in extremely confined and chaotic surroundings with many young, peppy, hopeful and eager-to-impress actors. If one makes this move, one will be entirely unable to control one’s temper.
- When one grows weary of endlessly trying to find a satisfying answer to the constantly posed question, ‘So, why exactly did you decide to move to New York?’ one should not shriek in exasperation, ‘Because New York fucking begged me to come, okay?’ For some reason, other New Yorkers find this answer more abrasive than amusing.
