Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Stuff I Hate - part 1

If you thought I said stuff I ate you are about to be sorely disappointed. You may also be a poor reader.  I am not hateful by nature, but when the green kitchen compost bin is packed to the gills with the decomposing cast-offs from last week’s dinner, my limits of goodwill are tested. (I guess that is a little bit about stuff I ate, but that’s not the point.) The point is that the little green bin inside must be dumped into the big green bin outside, where the fresh compost will have a chance to mingle with more rancid compost that lies in wait to go to the curb. In the process of decanting one bin to another, the ungodly smell that has lain trapped below the leaking bag is usually exposed. The stench itself is the part I hate. I guess the designers of the biodegradable plastic bag were dealing with too many other issues at the lab that day.
 “Hey Eric. I put the new biodegradable bag through a test and it started to leak after two days.”
 “Hmm… that’s gonna be a problem. The stink will soak right into the bin”
 “Yeah. (pause) You know that new girl over in the food wrap department?
“Yeah Lydia.”(raises eyebrows suggestively)
“Booyah!!! (high fives Eric) Beers after work today?”
“Hell yes!”
And God help you if get any of the stink juice on you. Rotting compost slime gives the phrase “like stink on a monkey” a run for its money. It’s just not as eloquent to say “like stink on a regular standup dude, who was just trying to do his bit for the environment.” Last time I made contact, my hands reeked, the garage reeked, and the vapors followed me back through the mud room into the house, clinging like skunk spray. Remember those wavy stink lines that followed Pepe LePew? Yeah…they exist in real life.  One day - late for work of course -I tried to lift the bag out instead of dumping it, and it split open and sprayed guck everywhere. I had to change my clothes and I could still smell it all day.
If you are unfamiliar with the weight of rotting vegetables, the density is roughly equivalent to that of a bowling ball that has been deep fried in lead. It gets heavy at our house because the unwritten rule is that the big bin doesn’t have to go to the curb until it has reached critical mass, which is coincidently the point where a ten year old is almost unable to lift it. Sometimes I feel so sorry for the little bugger that I want to carry it out to the curb for him. Almost.
Anyway, the little green bin is housed under the sink beside the hot water pipe (which, oddly enough, gives off heat)and above a furnace vent in the kick plate. I’m no science guy, but I’m pretty sure that the rate of stink production is relative to the hotness of the surrounding area.  So the answer to my problems is to carry the vegetable trimmings directly to the garage, thus avoiding the under the sink incubator. Bollocks to that I say…it would mess up my whole system.

1 comment:

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