My husband and I just had an argument about plastic trash cans. He wants to buy several for yard waste. I like using the large brown paper bags made of recycled materials. This morning, just as he was leaving to do errands, he said he was stopping by the hardware store to buy some plastic bins.
We’d had this discussion before. I didn’t say anything the first time he brought it up. Many of our neighbors use plastic bins labeled “Brush” in big, white letters painted on the side. His argument is that we could save money and avoid the hassle of running out of bags and having to run to the store to buy more. My question was how many times would we use the plastic bins until we broke even after the initial investment? In any event, it sounded like a reasonable, practical solution to yard waste collection.
Except, I hate plastic.
I don’t like to purchase plastic, nor to encourage the production of more plastic. I said none of this the first time my husband brought it up, choosing instead to go along to get along. So today when he said he was going out to buy some plastic trash bins for yard waste, I said, “okay,” and closed my writing room door. Three seconds later, I opened it again, went out to the kitchen and said, as he stood with his hand on the back doorknob, “Have you considered where we’re going to store all those trash cans? I mean, won’t they look unsightly standing around?”
He gave me a look of exasperation. “I knew you were going to do this. I knew you were going to object to the idea eventually.”
He knows me so well.
“Really? Is that all you care about?”
“But, seriously, have you considered it? I mean, where will they go? They’ll be an eyesore, won’t they?”
He stared at me, virtual smoke clouding his face. “Really? Is that all you care about?”
“Well, no. They’re plastic.”
“There you go. That’s the real reason. I knew it all along.”
“Yes, but I’m more environmentally conscious than you are.”
“They won’t go in the landfill. We’ll keep using them.”
“But yes they will. They’ll last for thousands of years after we’re gone.”
He looked at me, that same look he’s given me for years on various occasions. “Fine. I won’t get them.”
I didn’t say anything. Though I was glad he decided to please me, I didn’t like our arguing about it. I just wish he was more conscientiously minded about the environment. He resents that I am. He hates my obsession with plastic, the fact that I want to buy glassware with plastic lids for food leftovers instead of using something like Tupperware. But he goes along and washes and reuses the plastic Ziplock bags I buy without complaining. Today, he’ll go to the hardware store and buy my tomato stakes, but not the plastic trash bins.
We’ve been married nearly 40 years. He loves me. I love him. Sometimes we go along to get along. I was trying to do that by not saying anything when he first brought up the idea of plastic trash bins. In the end, I just had to voice my concern. After he left, I thought of one solution. He could get a plastic bin for himself, and I could continue to use paper bags. But I didn’t call him with this idea. I knew he’d think it was ridiculous.
Oh, God–being ourselves while married. It’s trying sometimes. One of us always bends. I get the feeling it’s him more than me most times. Perhaps I owe him an apology, but what would I say? I’m sorry I’m so stubborn? But I’m not planning on changing that aspect of myself, so why apologize? Or should I say that I’m so grateful that he is a caring, loving, accepting husband? Yes, that I can say, and have said, and will continue to say for as long as we both shall live.
