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Column: One man's trash...

Even though we intended to do some spring cleaning at home, an extended holiday in March managed to change our plans. Now, here we are in July doing summer cleaning instead.
Civkin
Shelley Civkin is a retired communications officer at the Richmond Public Library. File photo

Even though we intended to do some spring cleaning at home, an extended holiday in March managed to change our plans. Now, here we are in July doing summer cleaning instead.

If I might digress for a moment to the topic of planned obsolescence, I’m convinced that every household appliance we’ve ever purchased has come with an invisible expiry date. It’s not like the toaster has a warranty that says: “This item will work perfectly for three years and then it will unceremoniously die.” Oh no, that would be too easy. Instead, we go out in good faith and buy top quality items like an Italian cappuccino maker, a fancy kettle, a high-end food processor and an overpriced coffee maker, only to have to bury them all within a couple years. What the heck?

My husband Harvey cleverly decided to preempt the untimely demise of our coffee maker by buying a brand new one, even though the old one still works. I gave him a bit of grief over that, since I hate throwing things out that still have some life in them. But he prevailed. So one day I came home to meet out new coffee maker, whose name I can’t even pronounce.

Then the quandary arose: What do we do with the old one that still works? I wanted to donate it to Salvation Army, but Harvey opted for a less labor-intensive farewell, and chose to put it in our lane by the dumpster. As he was gently placing it on the ground, a guy, who appeared homeless, pushing a grocery cart walked up. The man was unabashedly eyeing the coffee maker.

What happened next, practically knocked Harvey over. The homeless guy proceeded to ask Harvey the following question: “How many cups does it make?” To which Harvey, who was stunned practically speechless, thought for a moment and replied: “I think it makes 12 cups.” The guy answers, disappointed: “Oh, I was looking for an 8-cup.” And walked off.

Harvey’s first thought was: “Where is a homeless guy going to plug in a coffee maker?” Ours is not to wonder.

I told Harvey from now on, we need to put an explanatory label on everything we take out to the lane. An old knife: “Needs sharpening badly.” A stained pillow: “Don’t worry…no diseases.” A chipped desk: “Lifting this on your own will result in a hernia, trust me.” Expired Beluga lentils: “Eating these will cause diarrhea.” Thirty-three-year old microwave: “Using this will make your genitals turn green and fall off.” Just being helpful.

Now, whenever we throw something out, we make sure we’re ready for the tough questions, such as: “Will an SOS pad clean this flat stovetop, or do I need to use special soap?”

Whatever happened to the good old days when you could put your dead miniature turtles in the trash outside, and no one was there to lecture you about composting? Or ask you for the capacity of your dented mixing bowl, in milliliters? Life has gotten so complicated you practically need a spreadsheet just to throw out your garbage. This should be our biggest problem.

Shelley Civkin, the retired “Face of Richmond,” was a Librarian & Communications Officer at Richmond Public Library for nearly 30 years, and author of a weekly book review column for 17 years.