Wednesday, February 6, 2013


Before we lived here, this was an empty pasture. A barren stretch of land which had not been inhabitated at least since World War 2.

As soon as we had a driveway in, the county demanded we get a 911 address. They assigned us one.

And then the catalogs came. Catalogs by the score. Catalogs for products that we not only don't want but couldn't afford anyway. We scratch our heads in befuddlement each day as we make the long trek back from the mailbox at why some company would think we need silk bathrobes and electric toothbrushes.

Almost all of these catalogs have on their cover the words: "Please recycle."

The factories where they make these products belch smoke into the atmosphere and send toxins into our steams. They deforest entire mountainsides to make their catalogs. Giant landfills reach to the sky, filled with the detritus they have left behind.

But it's amusing that they put the onus on me to recycle their stupid catalog.

1 comment:

Xa Lynn said...

My kids use them to make collages. I use the rest to start the fire in the wood stove.