I have this cute wonderful little Sony MiniDisc recorder that can make hi-fi digital stereo recordings with nothing more than the poke of a couple of buttons, but its proprietary NiMH battery finally stopped holding a charge and while I could still use the AC adaptor the device wasn’t half as much use not being portable.
(Here I must confess that I had the old nasty-toxic metal hydride battery in my purse to drop off with Lee, the guy who brokers the recycling and safe disposal of nasty batteries, but for whatever reason Fiona found it a quiet diversion during Erin’s piano recital in May, and when we stopped for gelato on the way home from the recital, I realized it had got left behind in the church pew. I can only hope that some Christian eco-head found it the next Sunday morning and took it to Lee for me.)
Okay, that’s my confession out of the way. I resolved to do a much better job of limiting my ecological footprint with my next nasty toxic NiMH battery. And so, after coming up empty locally, I found a Canadian internet supplier of replacement batteries and ordered one. It arrived quickly and effiicently.
But oh dear. Look at that package in front of Noah. He looks appalled, doesn’t he? That box is 9 x 6 x 6 inches. Inside …
Yup, one teeny weeny battery and half a gallon of styrofoam packing peanuts. An irate e-mail to the company hardly seems sufficient. I’m tempted to mail them back their peanuts. But I know they wouldn’t be at all offended by half a gallon of peanuts. They’d just throw them in the trash — out of sight, out of mind. Gone. Who cares, right?
So they’re in my garbage. I’m incensed anew every time I walk by the garbage can. How dare they inflict all those peanuts on me?