"Butts"

Pick The Dang Things Up...


Have I mentioned in the past that I don't smoke?

Well, there is the occasional tasty cigar that I hang on to every few months, but other than that I don't smoke tobacco, thus my disgust at seeing everyone else’s left over cigarette pieces and parts laying around everywhere.

Actually, our little island is a bit of an oasis when it comes to roadside litter including the aforementioned “butts.” Apparently, people here generally don’t toss out nearly as much trash as all the heathens living on the mainland do, and what does get spread around on the right-of-ways and curbs gets picked up by volunteers and public servants.

What got this rant started is that I’ve noticed that the heavy usage of our pool so far this season is also generating an abundance of little foam filled cylinders that accumulate around the pool deck and shrubbery.

I picked up NINE “butts” this morning.

Most of them (the “butts”) were of the same brand, and two of our newest residents and their visiting friends are suspiciously notorious for chain smoking while hanging around poolside.

I have this simple rule that I follow in life, and it involves bringing back home everything that I walk out the door with in the morning and that I don’t sell, give away, or otherwise properly dispose of by the end of the day.

Seems simple enough to me, right?

It works for money, cameras, clothes, cars, harmonicas…you name it, and in the end it costs a good deal less.

Thus my dilemma with our beloved pool “fools.”

All I have to say is, if you walk outside with it in your hand or pocket, take what’s left over back inside with you if you don’t put it in the trashcan conveniently located in the pool house.

Just don't put the dang things (cigarette butts) down in the first place, and I won't have to bitch and write about you on the internet.