My little crawly friends (Part 1)

I’ve been called a granola, Birkenstock wearer and sometimes even eco-terrorist by my family. Okay. I admit sometimes I storm through the house and interrogate each family member till I get a confession as to who had the gall to throw paper and tin cans into the rubbish bin and not separating them as I had instructed. When my inquisition is met by being ignored or laughed at, I secretly scheme ancient Chinese water torture tactics to obtain the truth. But then quickly discard the idea as I remember that water is not a thing to be wasted (unless I recycle it later for the toilet).

But I can’t help myself. I am just passionate about the environment. I’ve been green before the word green became the new orange, which was the new black. Or was that the new pink, which was the new orange, which was the new black? Anyway, I digress.

I truly resent the fact that green has come into “vogue”. I was one of the original pioneers and I know it is not a fashion statement it is supposed to be a lifestyle. My pioneering lifestyle led me to clean parks, recycle and shun the idea of owning a car (while living in the US, nonetheless). I turned off all the lights in the house. I didn’t use air conditioning in the summers, and hardly used the heater in the winter –and sometimes forbade my family members to indulge in these twentieth century extravagance (this being the mid 90’s). Perhaps these reasons were at the root of my family’s rationalization for calling me a terrorist. Whatever.

I even attended a seminar on indoor composting with earthworms. The day following the seminar I was so worked up that I took the day off and went to the Union Square farmer’s market in search of wormies. The only place that sold earthworms without me having to take a 2 hour trek out to the tip of Long Island.

The black man with the dreadlocks and a marijuana leaf printed on his shirt handed me a milk carton of which he said contained 20 earthworms. “But don’t worry they reproduce very quickly and you could have double that amount in no time.” I nodded as I opened the top and peered slowly into the container. “By the way are you are teacher?” My natural reflex was to say, “No, I’m in banking.” But I quickly decided against this. Who the hell would believe that a banker wore Birkenstocks and came to the farmers market on a week day afternoon to buy creepy night crawlers? So without answering I looked up slowly from the container, smiled and nodded my head.

When I returned home I was so excited to introduce my little creepy crawly friends to their new home -- a wine box de la local liquor store. Not just any wine box mind you, but de Chateau Pipeau, Saint-Emilion Grand Cru. Oui, oui, les worms seront tres contents!

I had drilled holes in the top to allow air flow as the white woman with the dreadlocks had instructed at the seminar. “Why do they all have dreadlocks?” I thought to myself as I sat shredding high quality A4 paper containing confidential information. Paper swiped from the office of course. As part of our “clean desk” policy, we were told to always shred confidential documents and never to toss them directly into the dustbins. I was definitely adhering well to company policy, not only was I shredding them I was using it as bedding for my worms. Definitely no leak of sensitive information from the compost bin. Unless, of course my slimy friends could read, figure out the convoluted corporate mumble jumble and had a source to talk to. Although, my boss always did said our competition were rats, so who knows?

***
Over the next three months the worms were fully adopted into the family. We all ate and laughed together in the dining room. Visiting friends and family wanted to see “the wormies”. And of course, the terrorist had to be consulted as to what could or couldn’t be thrown into the bin.

“Vegetables? Check.”

“Fruits? Sure.”

“How about eggshells, coffee grounds, teabags, bread? You bet!”

“Chicken skins? No!”

“Chicken bones? No!”

“Left over fried chicken? No, no, no….no chicken!”

Each night after work, I checked on the bin to ensure that it was not too wet and the correct ph level was maintained. Okay, I have no idea what ph level the bedding needed to be but there was no odor and the bin wasn’t too slimy or overloaded as dreadlock lady had warned not to do. My worms looked healthy and growing rapidly. On the weekends I sat stripping my A4’s or went searching for leaves, sand and other organic material to make my squirmy friends feel happy and at home.