Rewind a few weeks when Almost Mrs A asked me if I would like to do a zero waste challenge. At that time Mr Green was a ‘lazy environmentalist’. If it was convenient or handy (or saved him a few bob) he’d do it. Anything else was out, quirky and ‘whatever dear’ territory.
I had this little leap in my heart when I was asked to do this challenge and spent 4 days planning *the* conversation in my head. What would he say? How would he react? Should I cook his favourite meal first? Would it be best to ask him before or after his morning coffee? Should I make it for him and serve it to him in bed on the day of the conversation? Would he gravely suggest that it was ‘time to go our separate ways’?
Fortunately, he jumped on board straight away. Infact, I’d psyched myself up with a myriad of reasons as to why it was a good idea, how it could work and the bits I would take care of when he responded with an ‘Ok, it’s a great idea’.
You know that feeling?
A kind of euphoria and relief mixed in with a bit of ‘well don’t you want to argue about it first?’. A bit of a let down actually.
Fast forward to this week and I had a very scary conversation. A funny thing has happened here at Chez Green. I’m the one lagging behind with the zero waste challenge. Yes, I’ll buy unwrapped chickens for the cat and make bread for the Bairn, but I’m clinging onto my bottled water that comes wrapped in plastic, eating yogurt by the pot full that is in non recyclable packaging and absolutley-freaking-not ready to let my packet rice go that arrives in plastic backed foil.
Can’t. Shan’t. Won’t. And you can’t make me.
He, on the other hand sat me down the other night, looked me in the eye and told me he ‘wanted to talk about toilet paper’.
<sharp intake of breath>
He wanted to look at ways in which we could cut the plastic down further as we’ve not yet seen toilet rolls available in anything other than polythene packaging.
< looks for nearest exit>
I suggested Izal medicated just for the giggle (and to see whether we were looking at grounds for divorce). It was delivered with the ‘don’t you even dare agree with me’ kind of look.
You remember the stuff? It comes in a cardboard box rather than swathed in plastic. Tick. But that is where its good points end.
In fact, talking of points, if you don’t fold it properly you end up with second degree tears to your nether regions or a sharp stab in the you know what.
And forget it if you’ve had curry the night before. You need something that actually absorbs don’t you? That is, to my sad and troubled mind, the whole point of toilet paper. Yes?
I don’t want something that smears my poo all around me; if I wanted that I’d use a brush, stand in the Tate and call it art. No, all that I ask from my toilet paper is that it is an effective product which cleans off and disposes of my biological waste thankyouverymuch.
Just what is Izal medicated all about? Was it a joke? A dare? You might as well use newspaper, at least the stuff is absorbant. But then I guess Izal doesn’t leave last nights news imprinted on you which is probably another tick in the box.
I know why Izal is medicated, but it’s because it rips your proverbials to ribbons. My take is, if I want to wipe myself with splintered glass, I’ll use splintered glass – at least it’s recyclable. If I want sandpaper, I’ll reach for the toolbox. If I need tracing paper, I’ll be more likely to check in the office drawer than the bathroom.
Maybe there is a knack to it – do you fold it into a scoop and shovel out the contents of your bum? I don’t know, my schooldays were all a mystery to me.
I guess it stopped us skiving off lessons for ‘the toilet’ though.
I then considered ‘little washcloths’ for about, let me see now, a nanosecond?
Meanwhile, his little brain cell was working overtime trying to come up with a solution, so I’ve had to move pretty darn quickly over the past few days before my lovely pack of 24 Charmin reached an end and I was left with a squirty bottle and old flannel for company.
We toyed with the idea of buying boxes of tissues, at least they come in a cardboard box. But hastily decided against them – they’d be too expensive.
Today, however, I bring glad tidings and joyous news that will change the lives of all who wish to reduce the amount of plastic packaging they send to landfill.
I’ve found somewhere we (you, me, everyone in the country if they wish) can send our polythene wrapping to for recycling. Yipee!
Read all about it on our ‘Recycle plastic polythene packaging‘ article.
I weep with relief as I type – I can hang onto my Charmin for a bit longer…………..
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