The Jacob Marley of Trash

My apartment doesn't have a place for recycling, so it has become my practice to save up recyclables in these bags that I keep in my utility closet, and then when they're full, I take them to the recycling center not far from school. But before I take them, they usually clunk around in the back of my car for a few weeks. And in the meantime, my additional recycling stuff accumulates in laundry baskets and grocery bags and whatever else, and then, when I get sick of all the clanging tin in my car, I finally drop them off. And every time this process repeats, I envision some kind of futuristic version of "A Christmas Carol," in which I am Jacob Marley, but instead of being chained to lock boxes and money bags, I'm chained to empty Dr. Pepper cans and strawberries containers and wine bottles. "Conservation was my business," I moan to some updated Scrooge figure. No doubt the production is forthcoming. Meanwhile, I think all of this means I have some consumer guilt. I will hope that three spirits visit me and show me some better way before it's too late.