So my trash got rejected. I made it for almost a year without getting my trash returned to me with an embarrassing bright yellow and red note stating why I’m stupid enough to think I could get away with not sorting it properly. It’s been a week since my rejection, so I am finally ready to talk about it. At first, I glanced at it on the ground outside the trash area as I passed by, and didn’t recognize it. But the more I thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. When I walked by the next day for a closer inspection, I spied an envelope in the bag that said “Sandoval” on it, for the entire world to see. Argh!
Since all my refuse was exposed in a clear plastic bag, I just couldn’t bring myself to take it back at that moment. I don’t think I could handle the 10-story ride up the elevator with others seeing my naked waste. I was too embarrassed to take it back up to my apartment during the day, so I put it in my car and waited for night. Around 11 pm, when I was least likely to be detected with a trashbag full of rejection, I went to my car to retrieve it. Just in case there happened to be anyone around while I was taking it to my apartment, I brought an extra non-clear bag to hide it in. I felt like it was a dead body that I was furtively dragging back up to my apartment.
I kept thinking, ah, if only I hadn’t been lazy! Before I got myself into this debacle, I debated over that mandarin orange can for about 5 minutes while getting ready to leave for school that day and at the last second I threw it in, thinking, What’s one can in a bunch of junk? I guess if everyone in Japan thought that way, there would be a lot of cans and other recyclables in the trash.
I am a little nervous this morning for my trash, I mean I separated it, but for some reason I am afraid that it will be rejected again. I won’t feel safe til I come home today and make sure that it wasn’t rejected. Rejection isn’t fun, even if it’s only rejection of something that you don’t want.
