Old cat, old trick

I've been on a cleaning and organizing spree lately. Actually, spree implies something frantic, and it hasn't been like that at all. Maybe it's the new medication, but a switch got flipped last week that makes me say, hey, here is a pile of papers; I will file them now.

I'm taking full advantage of this new attitude, since I don't know how long it will last. Last night I left work early so that I could go downtown to The Container Store before heading uptown to a party. Have you ever been to The Container Store? They sell so many different ways of organizing your crap, I don't know how anyone ever makes a decision. I wasn't the only one with neatness on the brain: the store was packed.

It took a while to find what I was looking for, since I only had the broadest parameters: something to put recyclables into. My theory is that if I have the proper receptacle, I'll be more likely to recycle. Currently, I only recycle newspapers and magazines -- and I use the word recycle loosely, since what I actually do is just stack them up until my apartment starts to resemble the Collyer Brothers' and I bring them to the curb only when I'm afraid social services is going to step in -- because I don't have the proper receptacle for the plastics and metals.

I found this lovely green plastic jobby, which I will line with a clear plastic bag, and virtuously empty once a week. Except that I haven't put the bag in yet because as soon as I brought it home, Luca jumped into it. What is it with cats and boxes?