Remember the giant box of needles the husband found in the recycling bin, back in November? Yesterday, as the holiday debris started to clear out of the living room, I realized the box wasn’t there anymore. Come to think of it, it wasn’t there through any of the brunches or dinners-for-two or sprawling card sessions, or anything.
See, a while back, I resolved to refrain from adding a weekly update called “The Misadventures and Mishaps of the Orphaned Needles” or maybe “Needle Me This: 101 Craft Projects for Your Left-Over Medical Waste.” I didn’t think the husband could take it.
He called all over the place, trying to be a Good Samaritan and find a needle exchange program to responsibly, properly dispose of this stuff in the safest way. Turns out, no one wants you to do that. Finally he *did* find a Red Cross representative who snapped at him caustically, and listed off the 10 conditions that must be met to dispose of medical waste (in a hard plastic container no larger than this or smaller than this, only delivered to the drop-site on a Tuesday in March when the early dandelions bloom and the Senate is in agreement)… and even *then* he couldn’t find someone to take his needles. It was all very sad and very frustrating.
So when I realized the giant box of needles was no longer with us, of course I was delighted! “Oh good! You figured it out! What did you do with them?”
“Tossed them back in the dumpster.”
Oh. Oops. Well, I guess we can always take in that poor motherless desk in the alley. Surely someone knows how to refinish it…