The saga of my recycling boxes continues.
I know it is pathetic to get so het up about something so trivial, but anyway... :-)
On Thursday morning I was about to put the recycling boxes (DH gave me a spare one from the garage to make up for our previously stolen one) out for collection when DH had a brainwave.
We would spray-paint our house number on them in bright red paint, so even our apparently illiterate binmen and neighbours could work out that our boxes belong to our house.
DH suited action to the word, and our boxes were soon sporting a very fetching red double digit.
We then went out shopping.
When we came home, the recycling collection had taken place.
Loads of other people`s recycling boxes were sitting emptily outside their houses.
Not outside our house.
We had only one of our marked boxes; the other has apparently either been abducted by aliens, eaten by the refuse lorry, or - and my money is on this one, folks ! - stolen by the sad person who removed our last box under the cover of darkness.
So now, someone has **two** of our boxes, one marked with our house number in bright red paint and one unmarked.
I give up.
What annoyed me most was that someone just took them.
If that person had asked if I needed both of mine, or would it be possible for him/her to borrow one, I would have happily and instantly given the box(es) away with my blessing.
I just don`t like theft.
I know I shouldn`t get angry about it, but I am, and I do wish that I wasn`t angry.
Perhaps that is this Nativity Fast`s lesson for me - control your anger. Do not hoard things. Love Thy Neighbour as thyself.
Or perhaps the fact that recycling is bad for your temper and mental/spiritual health :-)
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