A Trip to the Recycling Center
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An oasis for fathers and husbands
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One of the modern weekend ostensible chores that has developed, at least in the northeast, is a trip to the recycling center. Some observations:
- There can be no doubt that recycling centers were the idea of a bedraggled husband/father and created for the purpose of getting them out of that internecine firefight known as “home.” There is a disproportionate amount of men there who possess a (temporary) sense of relief. It is an oasis of sorts, or better yet a “panic room.”
- Regarding the prior point, I make sure that every recyclable is placed in the proper receptacle. If need be, I analyze the label to determine the make-up of the item at hand; there is no amount of time too great to expend on such. If I get home a few hours later than need be, it is worth it to preserve Mother Earth.
I.M. Windee, like many a husband, is an avid recycler, but not necessarily for the sake of Mother Earth
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- Given the refuge that the center offers, I suggested that a bar and large-screen tv playing football be set up; the profit-potential could be limitless.
- When going to the recycling center alone simply to recycle and not escape the domestic front, it can take 30 minutes. If the kids go, it turns into a 2 hour adventure and there is usually more brought back home by way of books and 30 year-old magazines than what was brought there.
- Saying that the recycling center was opened 24-hours a day, especially at dinner time, worked for a bit until the wife caught on; she never bought that it was open on holidays, with an urgent need to visit it, as family was arriving.
- It’s over when there’s a sound of bloodhounds and loud music occurs (psychological operations by the spouse). An inevitable extraction from the spider hole, rough interrogation and a return to the cell (alright, a slight exaggeration, no cell). It’s disappointing when the kids point out where I’m hiding.
It would be natural to wonder how married men existed prior to recycling centers but one must assume that there was probably not a need for such back then, at least as a sanctuary.
-I.M. Windee
