Waste (The Swan Song)

Waste pains me. Not so much the waste of money (there are some things I can blow my wad on as fast as the next guy) or food (my interest in physical/mental health trumps this one) but most certainly the waste of:

1. another man's treasure (please donate/sell instead of throwing out) and
2. small-scale natural resources (please print double-sided).

The endeavor in Sweden discussed in this Reuters article both pleases and disgusts me:

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STOCKHOLM (Reuters) - A Swedish state-owned firm has found a cheap, eco-friendly source of energy to warm one of its offices: body heat from a quarter million commuters steaming through Stockholm's central train station.
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Body heat already warms the station itself but the surplus, currently let out in thin air, will be redirected to provide as much as 15 percent of the heating in a planned 4,000 square meter office building, real estate firm Jernhusen said.
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"We had a look at it and thought 'We might actually be able to use this'," said Karl Sundholm, project leader at Jernhusen, which also owns the station. "This feels good. Instead of just airing the leftover heat out we try to make use of it."
Jernhusen markets the building as "environment smart" and aims for its energy consumption to be half of what a corresponding building usually is.
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The bodily warmth from the central station will be redirected to heat up water. The investment will be around 200,000 Swedish crowns ($31,200), Sundholm said.
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"The ventilator aggregates are already there, and even some of the pipes. All we need to do is complement with a few pumps and pipes."
(Reporting by Anna Ringstrom)

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My disgust with my fellow man and woman on the subway during rush hour has already caused me to start walking to work in wintry mornings as often as possible. Should my workplace follow the Swedes, I'd probably risk contaminating myself with my own E. coli over washing my hands using malodorous infectious warmth.

"Project Bitch" Redux

This evening I went to take a gander at an Ikea wardrobe (the piece of furniture) listed on craigslist that I was interested in buying. I misremembered the address and ended up in the projects. In addition to the riffraff that are said to live in such housing developments, there are supposed to be some entirely wholesome people. I had spoken to the seller, a one Ms. Cristina, on the phone earlier because I was of course running late. She sounded wholesome enough. But as I approached her project building, I surprised myself with a newfound disinterest in this highly sought-after item at a bargain basement price. Is a wardrobe a lesser wardrobe just because it lives in subsidized housing?

I hemmed & hawed and even considered bailing at the last minute. I had to remind myself that she was someone I felt comfortable doing business with--her ad on craigslist was grammatically correct, after all (though her email to me was not), and a lot of the stuff she was selling was right up my alley. Plus, it isn't often that I am granted entry to such buildings, so I figured I should take advantage of the opportunity to see what they're like on the inside (I've heard they can be pretty sweet).

Before crossing the threshold from the sidewalk to the grounds of the development, I double-checked the address in my datebook. I was one block off. Relief never felt so sweet. I high-tailed it a block north, seized once again with desire for this elusive Ikea wardrobe.

While it's the fool who thinks that the projects are completely safe or completely dangerous, it's the jerk who devalues something just because it comes from there.

Haste Makes Waste

one thing i've always enjoyed wherever i am is finding random stuff on the side of the street by serendipity. it's my prissy/lazy/squeamish way of dumpster diving. some of the best finds are made off of the streets of new york city (okay, so there's one reason to like this place). of course, the competition from my fellow cheapskates, hipsters, self-aggrandizing yippies, and the homeless (there's a homeless person inside of me that's just waiting to come out) means i have to act fast if i see something juicy.

last night, i found this set of linens that, despite their freshly laundered scent, i'm too scared of to treat with any respect.

i'll either wash them or return them to the streets, depending on how much i start hating them and how bad i feel about taking bounty that could have gone to a homeless person. i'm sure the former will end up being the deciding factor, since i've noticed that i'm starting to lose patience for homeless people.