Tribble Update

As the Prime Geek and I wandered out of the store late last night, clutching two boxes of razors, a few eye bolts (clothes line project to be address before this upcoming National Hang Your Laundry Outside Day on Saturday*), a giant yard candle, and two bags of candy tightly in our mitts – I realized the goal to not bring home those troublesome tribbles (plastic shopping bags) was becoming something ingrained into our day to day lives. With a last minute dash out to the store, we had waved away bags – large AND small – from a slightly confused cashier. Her “They're free... you sure you don't want one? How about just a little one? You sure?” followed us out the door as we simply divvied up the purchases and carried them out with us. It isn't even just me, the Prime Geek has begun to quip to tellers everywhere “No thanks, save a plastic tree!” and simply stuff purchases into his deep pockets – waving receipts in front of confused door greeters like a talisman to explain he really HAS paid.

Bags – canvas & string, bought & knitted are hanging from doorknobs, stuffed in the back of the Jeep, I even now carry multiples scrunched up in the bottom of my purse** ready to whip out and confuse and confound cashiers and bag packers everywhere. The main reason we were left carrying last night was the PG's precious lad – his jeep – is in for repairs following our little “incident” with the snowplow. I hadn't even considered getting a few to keep in the rental for the week and I had run out the door with the PG too quickly to grab much more than my sandals and my wallet.*** I fixed THAT little snafu this morning.

What? Do I still hear a few holdouts? I know I heard a groan over there in the corner. Bags are a pain to remember? It doesn't make a difference unless everyone is using them so why bother? You just forget?

Ahhh. But your kindly aunty Natural Nerd has a visual to help you all go out and grab your bags. Or at least the ones who have pets or even remotely like animals. Heck, I'm pretty sure with the next three paragraphs I can also get the easily grossed, the highly strung, and the neurotically tidy as well.

Thus far in the annals of this blog, I've posted pictures of three of our four girls. Pandora is up in the corner, Luna and Harlequin had their little love fest last week.... Bunny. Well, getting Bunny's picture is rough. Hard to take one in total darkness, and the ones I snap when she dares the light are too pitiful for words (the nickname of Bunny comes from her fraidy-cat nature and her Bunnicula tendencies. She even has two tiny fangs). Take it as read she's a cutie. While we're not completely insane over our girls, they are a HUGE part of the family. I've always had pets – dogs, cats, hamsters, the odd squirrel, etc. So has the Prime Geek, we always will have animals around us. I'm guessing there are a few animal lovers out there amongst you folks as well.

So picture along with me, you're sitting in your living room watching a new episode of Top Gear while eating a snack with your honey. Off in the distance, just at the edge of hearing... there is a strange “nom, nom, nom, nom,” and the crinkle of plastic. Annoying enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck rise just a tad... but is it worth getting up to investigate? Nah.... until it continues until the next commercial break. Sighing, you push yourself up and decide to see what the hellions you share your home with are up to. As you flick on the kitchen lights you see three startled and now slightly guilty looking cats – all with a side of a plastic bag in their mouths, well chewed and wet. With a yell, you scatter your troublemakers to three of the four winds and examine the bag they had found and dragged out. Scraggly, disgusting, wet... but no obvious pieces missing. All is well, you gingerly pick up the one non-chewed corner and toss the whole mess into the trash. No biggie, right? They have been doing the oral equivalent of popping bubble wrap since they were little and as long as you get it away from them in time, no real worries. The bags are no longer trickling in, and soon they won't be able to dig out anything to chew on. You secure the remaining bags and leave the room. All is well.

WARNING WARNING WARNING DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING IF EATING, EASILY NAUSEOUS, EASILY GROSSED OUT, OR CUDDLING A PET OF ANY DESCRIPTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Until the next morning when you are confronted by a puzzled but still purring fuzzball vainly trying to scratch an itch they can't reach – caused by the 2 feet of dirty, scat encrusted, strip of plastic bag handle hanging forlornly out of their nether region.

Still wanna bring home those plastic bags? Not enough? How about the horrible moment, when walked through it by a kindly vet on the other side of a telephone – you are instructed to grab an end and gently tug to see if it can come loose... but to stop if it looks like you might be going to pull out their intestines as well.

All came out well in the end, although visitors are confused to hear Harlequin referred to as Ripper (short for Ripcord) these days.

Gonna forget THAT little mental image when you bop out of the door without a bag?

Didn't think so.

Grab a bag before you go, and I won't ever make you read something like this again.



*Apparently everything gets a holiday these days.
**The real change is actually carrying a purse. Before, I just grabbed my cell, the keys, and stuck my wallet in my back pocket. Who knew it would be the Green efforts that would make me do something my mother despaired of every getting me to do.
*** Alright. And my yarn. I'm 9 hats into my 12 hat goal by the weekend.