The other day I opened my fridge only to have a full gallon of milk fall on my foot. Fuck! I said, and bent down to mop up the milk that glu-glugged out. Insert something about "crying over spilt milk" here, but of course I first uprighted the carton because everyone knows you cannot clean up a mess that just keeps spilling. Or gushing, whatever. I don't know much about oil spills, Corexit, or Kevin Costner's brother Dan, though I assume he's a great guy. Hell, I don't even know much about milk except maybe something something Louis Pasteur. What I do know is that stupid plastic gallon of milk was made from crude oil.
Where to start, what to do, why, when all I want is to take a nap. I hate this, this oil spill, this corporate greed, this paper or plastic carbon-sized 13 shoe'd world when I keep forgetting to bring my reusable bags to the store. I hate the very fact that I drive to the store. It all feels so hopeless, you know? Sometimes it feels like the only truly impactful thing I can do is to teach Zoey what it all means. That, and yes, from now on we're buying the smaller cardboard cartons of milk (even if they are still coated with polyethylene...).
Happy Thursday. Not to get all didactic on you, but let's all try not to use any plastic today, mkay?