Walking for Trash??

I just finished reading A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson (no, not Bill McKibben that would make more sense on a "green" blog but really Bill Bryson - the funny one) and at one point he said, "93 percent of all trips outside the home, for whatever distance or whatever purpose, Americans now get in a car.  On average the total walking of an American these days - that's walking of all types: from car to office, from office to car, around the supermarket and shopping malls - adds up to 1.4 miles a week, barely 350 yards a day.  That's ridiculous."  Keep in mind that this book was published in 1998.  Have we gotten any better???  Really.  Have we?

I'm not going to get into how we should all be walking or riding our bikes when we go on any trip under 1 mile or 2 miles or 10 miles or whatever!  (I don't want to have to point a finger at myself, of course.)  This post is about a little thing that's much smaller than that.  Let me tell you what I did yesterday.

I took a walk.  A walk that wasn't for pleasure but to actually get some place.  Actually, I took two walks... but they were both so small that I can't in good conscience call them "walks" at all.  I walked 2 blocks - twice.  Honestly, I was just exploring my neighborhood.  Anyway, on the first walk I hung a right out of my driveway, walked two blocks to take a picture (you'll see that another day), and walked right back home.  I came home with these:

In the afternoon, I turned left out of my driveway.  I walked two blocks again, talked to some neighbors, and came straight home.  Other than crossing a side street, I never even left the sidewalk but I still came home with these:

Let me explain.  I didn't consume any of these things.  I didn't even walk far enough to get to a store.  I found them.  Then I brought them home and recycled them.  I do this.  It's one of my weird quirks.  I pick up other people's trash.  Someone has to do it, right?  Seriously, I think it's become a compulsion.  Last week I went passed a smashed up gatorade bottle without picking it up.  A block later, I turned my bike around so I could get it.  I couldn't get my brain to stop saying, "well, now, who is going to pick that up?"  Well, me, of course.  I was going to go pick it up.

I know what you're thinking.  And, no, I don't live in a trashy area.  I live in a nice, ("snooty" is too harsh, right?) quiet neighborhood in an upmarket (my thesaurus told me to use that instead of "snooty") kind of town.  People take pride in this town!  Yet, I still can't go for a walk or bike ride without coming home with trash.

Please, tell me you do this too.  Please.  Please...

Peace,

Stacey