Last weekend I learned a lesson that my Dad taught me 30 years ago. I remember after one (less than peaceful) evening at home venturing out to the back yard to find my Dad whole-heartedly smashing aluminum cans with an old brick. And although I can't repeat the words I heard, or remember who was at fault for disturbing the family peace, the look on his face was one of satisfaction. Now, I can't say that I have anything particularly frustrating in my life right now. Let's be honest...I don't have a job, I have one (perfect) kid and live in a beautiful place...BUT (and there's always a big but) after a particularly difficult French lesson, Maisie and I headed down to our storage room and got physical with all the cardboard boxes that were cluttering up our space.
I'm not usually superstitious but a little voice in the back of my head kept telling me not to cut up the moving boxes because the minute you do, you'll have to move, right? So I saved a good share of them but the rest were reduced to recycling size. I was amazed at how great I felt after mastering that tiny portion of my universe. Thanks Dad for teaching me that recycling is good for the Earth and good for the soul.
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