I actually was productive Wednesday night since it was the bi-weekly recycling day in the morning, this morning.  After I got home from working out (probably explains how I had the energy to be productive), I broke down and tied together boxes I had been saving in storage, went through my junk mail, and dumped a lot of stuff into the recycling bin.

When I got home last/Thursday night from My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Edition) to see my ATF, I pulled up to see the recycling bin still where I had thrown all that stuff I worked so hard to toss.

You know, when you intend to have the stuff you want recycled recycled, you kind of have to wheel the recycling bin down to the end of the driveway in order for the dump truck to take the recyclables away.

I do have this remote fear that my parents, who come home next week, will see all the stuff in the bin that I mean to have hauled away and ask, for example, "Where did these boxes come from?" and "Why don't you throw away more of your garbage from your bedroom?"  I hope they don't inspect it too much when they toss things in the bin.  Also, the bin is more than halfway full, but with only me here for one of the two weeks before the dump truck comes around, I hope that it won't be full two weeks from now.

So the overriding feeling is shame and self-hate for forgetting to frickin' put out the bin to get recycled.