G is for Gross

I've been away. Not from home, but from posting. Life = hectic. I apologize and move on. Again. And again and again.

Today I had a rather disgusting experience. Let me set the scene.

I try to be a good citizen and that extends, at times, to picking up errant litter and depositing it in the nearest trash recepticle. (As a tangent to the real story, it amuses me to no end that the garbage cans outside of the local Homesense Store say "Garbage - Trash" on them, as if that somehow makes them bilingual - bilangue. You see, "Garbage" is the way to spell that word both in English and in French, so do we really need "Trash" as a clarifying term or translation? Hmmm.) Yesterday, for example, a newspaper flyer was blowing directly across my path as I walked to the car at Canadian Tire (I was buying a filter for the furnace in case any of you desperately wanted to know) and so I scooped it up and tossed it. I admit, I probably miss infinitely more litter than I scoop, but I try and that's better than not.

Today, however, I had an experience that would make me second-guess my good intentions. I had just parked at the McDonald's (don't judge me, I just said I do what I can and know I have a ways to go) and got out of my car. There were about 20 paper-wrapped straws scattered between my car and the next, so I figured I'd scoop them up and toss them in the garbage to keep them from blowing across the neighbourhood. I bend. I scooped.

And that's when I realized what a mistake it had been.

There was something on the straws.

Something unidentifiable.

Something curiously like mucous.

Like dripping, oozing, transparent, slippery, slick, and altogether unpleasant mucous.

I dropped the straws into the garbage, carefully extracted my key from my pocket (so as to avoid getting the aforementioned mystery substance on my clothes and car) and unlocked the door. I was VERY grateful to have the bottle of hand sanitizer inside the door and I used it liberally. At the first opportunity, I washed and washed and washed my hands until I felt safe, secure, and free again.

I shall never know, for certain, what the substance was. I believe that's for the best. But I must wonder why, when I was simply trying to be a steward of the earth's parking lots, must these things happen to me?