One of the first subjects I wrote about on this blog was anthropology.
I asked you to consider what social scientists would learn about you if they happened upon your magazine rack.
Now and again we have a chance to learn about each other, as households of humans, through our recycling bins.
We know quite a bit about our neighbors—their dietary habits and how they spend their weekends—on recycling day. They also get a glimpse into who we are, that is, unless we’ve mastered the art of burying clues, as I do when necessity dictates.
Doesn’t every family stash its Little Debbie cartons or otherwise-telling proof of vice beneath the Kashi Go Lean?
What do we know about people based on what’s on their curb?
A bin brimming with dead PBR soldiers might reveal a group house of twenty-somethings, while a heavier load of Shiraz bottles and brie rinds is a sure sign of a girls’ weekend.
Walking down my street, you’d envision from this curbside container an adoring aunt who spoils her visiting nephews:
You’d also know that neighbors aren’t rushing to party with the empty nesters who left this blue bin behind.
Quick, take a look, what’s in your trash tub? Do tell: What’s buried beneath those Evian empties?
One response to “The tell-tale tub”
Driving to the transfer station every weekend,
putting your recyclables in the separate dumpsters,
knowing you are hauling garbage in your new car…
none of that is fun when you live in the country.
But the privacy?