Remember you are responsible for the death of sea turtles should you choose wrong. With a straw up its nose like a middle schooler without friends, the turtle will judge you from its watery grave. Blub, blub, blub, the turtle says with a condemning look. When translated, this means, Asshole.
Step One. Look at the chart on the bin and immediately give up. It is designed by overeager earth friends, who came up with a shortened health bill. And it has all you need: photos, arrows, shame, a diagram on how to do sit-ups, and a tax on the croissants you ate, you unhealthy bastard.
Step Two. Decide against giving up and spend twenty to thirty minutes trying to understand the chart. If you need to be somewhere, call and cancel. Tell them you have to return a cup to the Earth’s consciousness or that a napkin has lost its way and needs to be guided to enlightenment, i.e. crammed into the ground and left to rot away into nothing. They should congratulate you for being better than them.
Step Three. Pull out your personal statement to the Earth. You should have it on you at all times, the one that apologizes for not picking up that Snickers wrapper and promises things only a very guilty person would promise. And according to this chart, this personal statement is going to be… recyclable. Maybe.
Step Four. Think about throwing everything in the landfill bin anyways, including the ceramic coffee mug, the metal silverware, and all your credit cards—because screw it. But after dithering, you know you can’t. The baby turtles are watching you.
Step Five. Peer nonchalantly in each of the bins and see if anything matches what you want to throw away. And NOTHING WILL because you are trusting people who watch CNN and drive like brainless sacks of meat.