Shoplifting

Because I thrive on guilt, I've been feeling amazingly guilty about the number of plastic grocery bags I bring home from the grocery store (I do recycle them). So as I've been cleaning out my apartment in anticipation of my move, I put all my magazines and phone books and several large piles of paper from my thesis in plastic bags in order to recycle the paper. But it seems that recycling paper in California is much harder than I thought, which strikes me as odd since this is the state that is passing legislation that requires that house builders of a certain size offer solar panels. I took it to the recycle centers near Ralph's but they didn't want it and the leasing agent looked at me like I was smoking dope when I asked him about recycling programs in our apartment buidling. Yup, that's right. I can't find anywhere to recycle my paper, and maybe I'm a freak for worrying so much about it.

A few days ago, I finally decided to throw away the shoe box that once held the Teva flip flops I bought back in May. When I picked up the box, it felt a bit heavier than an empty shoe box should feel and something was sliding around in it. Inside, wrapped up in plenty of tissue paper was a third flip flop. So I took it back to the store, assuming that one of their employees had made a mistake and they'd be so impressed by my honesty. Only, after I got out of the store, I remembered that it's one of those shoe stores where all the shoes are out on the main shelves and so a customer (meaning me) would be the most likely perpetrator. For all I know, I was the one who mixed up the sandals, meaning that I sort of shoplifted. Okay, so maybe I'm trying to make all of this sound more exciting than it really was. But the funny thing is, I don't feel any sort of guilt over the fact that I messed up their inventory. I feel more anxiety over recycling the 5 phone books I've accumlated over the past 12 months. Well, maybe now that I think about it, I do feel sort of guilty. Oh well.