I’m sensitive to wasteful habits. This is why I have a particular distaste for Vegas. I have a hard time coming to terms with the gazillion watts of flashing lights, the platefuls of uneaten buffet food and, of course, the money that more often than not disappears into slot machines or dealers’ hands.
It’s just as agitating to spot waste on a smaller scale. My husband knows this. That’s why he’s careful to switch off lights when he leaves a room and knows not to wander too far away while waiting for running water to warm up. He knows that not respecting resources will ignite a fury within me that would scare even the Grim Reaper.
The problem is I have to keep this fury in check at work, where there is waste aplenty.
I’ve kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself in the ladies restroom, where women leisurely dry their hands while keeping the water running, just so they can use their wet paper towel to turn off the faucet.
I’m also full of guilt and remorse when I let my mind imagine the fate of leftover food from the cafeteria, or the scores of trash bags filled with Styrofoam plates and unrecycled plastics.
Seriously, folks! Who are we? Unapologetic, convenience-driven parasites?
The thing is, you and I may be fortunate enough to afford water, electricity, food and a home far away from a landfill, but othersÂ in our very own world don’t have such simple pleasures.
Wise up, please.