Bag It

On New Year’s Day, here in our nation’s capital we became the first major area in the country to apply a surcharge for paper and plastic bags when buying groceries or booze. They’re calling this campaign the “Skip the bag, save the river,” by which I’m assuming they mean the Potomac. (Though as a District Dweller, sometimes I wonder if the Potomac is beyond saving. Drive or run by it on a sticky day in August, when the air is as still as the government, and you will understand completely what I mean.) (And if you don’t understand what I mean, I have one word for you: phlegghhheeeeeeeplop)

In theory, this is a great idea, yes? As someone who is a big proponent of reusable bags, yes, this is a phenomenal idea. Cut down on the paper and plastic bags that end up floating around out there – particularly since lately it seems that the plastic grocery bags have gotten thinner and thus check out clerks feel the need to double bag cotton balls – and if they must be used, then retailers make a little profit. Win-win! Hooray!

Did I mention that I’m a big proponent of reusable bags?

Did I also mention that I am one of the most forgetful people on the planet?

And that a good 82 percent of the time I go grocery shopping I forget to bring said reusable bags of which I am a big proponent?

Sigh.

So, yeah, it’s safe to say that I’ll be one of those suckas who gets tagged with the 5-cents-per-bag surcharge. And probably often. And I’m okay with that. My memory loss is the economy’s gain, is one way of looking at it.

But the question then becomes: What the hell do I do with all those bags? I live in a very small apartment, and I am only one person. Sure, they make great garbage can liners for the bathroom trash. And sure, my local Safeway also has a box outside the store where one can recycle their excess plastic bags. But let’s face it, if I can’t remember to bring my reusable bags to the store with me, what makes me think I will bring my excess bags with me?

I think it is fair to say that in 5 years – maybe more, maybe less – the Potomac could be clean and free of plastic bags.

My apartment, however, not so much. I may be bringing a whole new meaning to the term “plastic-covered furniture.”