confessions



I have something awful to confess on Earth Day. I have bag envy. A few years ago, when my daughter convinced me to try those canvas shopping bags and say good bye to “paper or plastic,” I doubted. I’d leave them in the car (I did). I’d forget them at home. (I did.) I’d feel silly. (I did, for a while.)

But now, ask that same child how I feel about reusable shopping bags. You will get a response something to the effect of, “My mother is a freaking insane OCD nutcase about her shopping bags.” I make them go back out to the car if I forget them. I will buy a new one rather than use plastic. I keep one in my purse at all times. I have been known to carry out six items in my hands along with a purse, water bottle, and netbook just to avoid scarring the planet with another plastic bag. Yes, I am a freaking nutcase. But at least I don’t feel silly about it.

I do have some nice bags. I have green bags, purple bags, bags with blueberry photos, bags colored all over in Sharpie marker, bags that display San Francisco markets and flower gardens. And my Chicago Cubs bags are carried with pride. I personally have a blue bag that is the envy of many because of its incredible sturdiness. And I gloat when someone else wants it, because I bought it at a food co-op on Cape Breton Island, and I know those jealous shoppers will never have this bag.

But every once in a while, someone comes up behind me in line, and there it is. The perfect bag. And I want it. It is not enough that I have approximately 43 bags in various places between three cars, my purse, bedroom, and hallway. Hers is perfect. It is still fresh. The little plastic bottom has not yet broken. It has a picture of some place I’m sure I’d like to go. I want that bag.

Is there a recovery program for this? A twelve step process? Is this a call for help? Or a justification? And by the way, do you have a favorite shopping bag? Celebrate Earth Day by buying some and learning to use them. Or by telling me about your bag that is the envy of everyone in line. I promise not to covet it. Of course, you probably won’t trust me, seeing as I’m a freaking insane nutcase.

One thought on “confessions

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s