"Away"
I ran out of cereal this morning, and threw the empty box away. We recycle what we can, but unfortunately the list of what our curb-side service will take doesn't include cereal boxes. We also compost what we can, including any veggies from our CSA subscription that go uneaten for too long. Everything else gets a one-way ticket to that magical place called "away." But where is away? Is it really some magical place like Heaven, or that farm where so many urban dogs go to chase rabbits? I'm guessing plenty of people will bristle at my comparison of this place to Heaven, and rightly so. Nobody in their right mind would equate a landfill with the ultimate reward for a pious life. But if the landfill isn't magical, how can it hold so much stuff without filling up? Well, it can't. We're dealing with trash in essentially the same way as our ancestors going back thousands of years: we dig a hole in the ground and put the trash in it. When the hole starts filling up, we cover it over and dig a new hole. The problem ...

