Alice Coyle: Saving the earth saving my soul

When it comes to recycling, you could say my husband is a zealot.

And me?

I'm a reluctant and sometimes resistant disciple.

My husband doesn't throw away soda or beer cans - after all, they're worth a nickel apiece when returned to our local package store. But he's not merely in it for financial gain. Plastic water, milk and salad dressing bottles also must be rinsed out and recycled, rescued from the trash bag where I've irresponsibly and sometimes furtively tossed them.

Do I feel ashamed when he discovers my dirty little secret and shoots me that disapproving look? Yes.

I know it's mostly laziness on my part, rather than a premeditated or wanton disregard for our local and global environment.

Admitting I have had a problem with recycling is the first step to resolving it, right? And confession is good for the soul, so forgive me, dear, for my Hefty indiscretions.

I'm doing better with recycling, and my husband has been the chief reason for that transformation. He sets a good example for our entire family and holds us accountable. He encourages us to do the right thing, and praises us for doing our part.

But I do have lapses.

When the spaghetti sauce in that jar in the back of the fridge has grown a fuzzy green coat, or that long forgotten black bean and corn salsa has taken on a moldy, blue hue, I struggle with doing the right thing. Just opening the jar - let alone rinsing it out - turns my stomach, making it more likely it will end up buried at the bottom of the trash can or back in the refrigerator until it is rediscovered next year.

I'm weak, I know.