It’s a horrible admission to make, but I put the bin out the other day while wearing only underpants and a singlet.
Didn’t even think. Leaping out of bed at 6am to rings of “bin day” in my head, I was focused on the task at hand and quite clearly nothing else.
The guy two doors down was the only other person out. I’ve never seen his teeth, but his smile was bouncing off his ears it was that wide.
To his credit, he didn’t laugh. He must have had more time to prepare his morning callout, as he’d managed to throw on some tracksuit pants while doing his duty.
To make matters worse, it was recycling day, which meant I had to do two trips. Was it worth running inside between wheelie trips to find a pair of suitable pants?
Not really. The only person who’d seen me would have thought I was doing it for his benefit, and that would have been awkward. If anyone else wanted to join the party in the next three minutes, well, so be it.
I’m not kidding. Two people walking their dogs decided to pass my house within that three-minute period. What were the odds? At least I’d managed to ensure the fly trap at the front of the Y-fronts was closed.
Wanda was fast asleep. Well, at least I thought she was. “Did you just go out in public in your underpants?” she asks, mid-snore.
She has this uncanny ability to know every move I make.
Nevertheless, it got me thinking. Not so much about my mode of dress and the excitement I’d caused the neighbours, but about our recycling habits.
You see, I’m not convinced all recycling is a good thing. It’s great that our plastic milk bottles can be turned into road filler or planet Earth textiles.
But I think I prefer my milk to come from a bottle. Some smart Alec will tell me milk comes from cows, to which I also say I think I prefer my coffee to be frothed with something that’s been processed.
I’m also not sure I’m a fan of paper straws. I don’t drink beer from a straw, but I do enjoy the odd milkshake which begs the use of a sucking device. A plastic sucking device.
The paper version wilts, closes at the top, and I end up putting my lips on the side of the tin cup which – let’s face it – I could have been doing all along.
An engineer somewhere in the world will no doubt come up with an improved recyclable straw. Until then, we’ll tolerate what we have, as we have for centuries.
We’ll talk into our mobile phones until there’s a way we don’t have to; we’ll cook our food in microwaves and air fryers until they find something to replace the oven which has laid idle in our kitchen for the past six months; and we’ll continue to surf channels on the television with a remote until Siri learns to understand my Australian drawl.
We’ll put solar panels on our rooves until better green energy comes along, we’ll drive hybrids until there’s enough batteries to support electric vehicles, we’ll conserve water until desalination if finely tuned.
Because as a human race, that’s what we do. We find ways to improve our way of life before discovering that the convenience came at a cost. Then we fix it, modify it, or say “to hell with it, I’ll keep doing what’s bad because nobody’s found a way to make things better yet”.
Because life is all about choices, Wanda, and if I want to take the bins out in my underpants, that’s what I’ll darn well do – regardless of the heckling you may have to endure at your next Tupperware party.
Hey Wanda, if you need me I’ll be right here. Next to you. Asleep.
