Dear readers, I have a confession to make. I am really, really bad at being green. I have incredibly good intentions to recycle, use my inexplicably growing collection (since I NEVER buy them myself) of travel mugs for coffee, and finally build that damned compost pile in the back yard. Incredibly good intentions….with pitifully inept results.
You see, I don’t rail about the evils of consumerism, waste, and bad stewardship of the earth from some ivory tower filled with organic cotton pillows and hand-spun soy-fiber blankets. I rail about it because I feel enslaved by it, and I’m trying with all my might to shake myself out of the complacency that I so often feel along with the rest of my Gen-Y?, too cool for school, ironic hipster generation.
So you can see how, to the girl for whom remembering to take her latte-encrusted reusable cup out of the car is a Herculean feat, the little victories must be celebrated. I hope, then, that you’ll be able to understand just how excited I was when I cleaning the kitchen this morning and realized that I don’t need my paper towel holder anymore.
You guys, I can’t even remember the last time I bought paper towels. I just know the transformation started at some point in the last couple months when we ran out of paper towels and I forgot to buy them at the store two or three times in a row. (See? So inept.) Necessity is the mother of invention, and the twitching little bleach gnome inside me needed to invent something to clean the bathroom sink, pronto, or my brain was going to explode. You see, up until then a paper towel roll was like my homemaking Swiss army knife. I used them for everything–cleaning surfaces, wiping up spills, as dusters, as napkins, as back-up toilet paper when we ran out of that and I forgot to buy it at the store two or three times in a row…everything.
Finally, in the prolonged absence of my favorite wasteful, environmentally un-friendly household supply, I decided to give up and try the green option. I gathered up all the spare terry cloth I had in the house, both kitchen towels and face cloths that were getting old or threadbare, and christened them as my reusable surface-cleaning army. Now purposeful instead of just forgetful, I entered a realm that Brawny, Scott, and Cottonelle advertising executives work diligently to ensure we never discover: a world without paper towels.
And you know what? It really wasn’t that hard. At first I did supplement my use of the regular towels by buying one roll of recycled paper towels and going through it very slowly, but after that I found that as long as I had enough cleaning towels and did my laundry regularly, I didn’t even need that. I was doing just fine in No-Paper-Towel Land; in fact, I was thinking of settling down there and starting a family.
Take that, Brawny.
Your lumberjack mascot is a cheap Chuck Norris knock-off, anyway.