Composting

Yes, I'm a procrastinator.

I've lived in my apartment for two and a half years. Last week, I finally found a place to take my compost. See, when there's an obvious solution to a problem, I just get things done. When I worked at a school that had a composter on the roof (next to the greenhouse full of organic plants - can you tell it was a Montessori school?) I took the compost to work on a weekly basis. But when I'm not sure what to do, I'm paralyzed.

So the smallest thing can be a victory.

Joe can take the credit for this one - his subtle incredulity that I didn't have a compost bag in the freezer finally got to me, and I called the Green Thumb garden people to ask where I could bring my compost. They gave me the number for a community garden two blocks away from my home. That turned out to be a neighborhood woman's private phone number, so the conversation went a little like this:

Me: Good morning. Do you accept compost?
Her: Who is this?
Me: Rebecca
Her: Where are you calling from?
Me: My apartment. (?!)
Her: Hold on a second. (Sound of television being turned off in the background.)
Ok, so now what's this all about?

I won't bore you with the rest of the specifics, but, yes, they will take my compost. I just have to sling it, double-bagged, over the fence of the garden.