Time: 14 years ago
Place: Military housing on base
Situation: Husband got new assignment. I'm cleaning the house and packing up stuff. Haul all the junk down to the curb -- albeit neatly -- to be picked up garbage man. One of the items was a gallon just with about maybe 2-3" of paint in it.
So, I'm in the house washing down the kitchen cabinets when suddenly someone's pounding at the door:
Wondering what the heck is going on I go to the door. Standing there is a middle-aged, bantam rooster of a bureaucrat. The conversation goes like this:
Him (pointing): That your trash out there?
Me (looking, wondering what the heck is going on. Is it on fire or something?): Yes.
Him (stern): Come with me. I wanna show you something.
Me: Ah...okay.
We go to the neatly stacked pile of garbage by the curb. With a stabbing motion he points to the can of paint.
Him: Do you know disposing of paint in the trash is a felony?
Me: It's only a little bit of paint. I got it from (base) housing (supply). It..."
Him: It's a felony.
Folks, I came this close to being a smart mouth and replying "Oh, you mean like shooting a judge??" But, in a sudden, unexpected burst of common sense, I didn't.
The story ends with him lecturing me how I had to dispose of it, where I had to take it, what forms I needed, &c. &c. I took the can of paint -- upon which, apparently, the fate of all mankind hinged -- kept it in the hall closet for a couple of days.
Then I drove to the back of chow hall, and tossed the ^%$#@ can of paint in one of their huge dumpsters.
--The End--
No, I like YOUR story better!
I have no problem with disposing of these things properly but make it EASY, people! Have a once-a-month day when you can put out your toxic waste like paint, lightbulbs, and batteries, and people will do it. Or allow us to return the products where we purchased them.