After a wild weekend cooking spree, the compost situation was turning into a cascade. I'd run out of bags for the kitchen bin, so I raced to the corner store ready to snatch my usual brand off the grocery shelf only to find myself coming to a dead stop in front of the selection. Where did mine go?
Nowhere to be found. Every bag in my usual brand's line (on those shelves at least) was suddenly ready-imbued with chemical perfume. I was forced to buy some, but within two days the whole box was escorted unceremoniously to the door. Call me hypersensitive, but every time I opened the cupboard to get a bag, a wave of its so-called "fresh clean" scent leaped into my unwelcoming nostrils. It smelled not unlike fresh cat litter.
This overpowering fake-smell stuff – the kind of smell you can actually taste – is becoming a plague. Consider taxis and ubers, to point a finger at even worse culprits. I'll ride with my face out the window in freezing weather to avoid being overwhelmed by throat-arresting ersatz-vanilla or faux pine. (I'm not sure if I wouldn't rather travel across town in a chariot hitched to a skunk.) Now, apparently, I can't even line my compost bin without being knocked sideways by a similar assault.
Snubbing the brand in protest, I next bought the grocery's own line of cheap, but at least non-stink, compost sacs. Well, bring on pet peeve No. 2 in the garbage-bag department. Why are so many so membrane-thin that a rotten blueberry dropped into one would pretty much be enough to put a hole through it, never mind trying to fill it with coffee grounds, egg shells, carrot peelings, mouldy yogurt, etc., and not to mention trying to race it from the compost spot in the kitchen and out the door to the green bin without leaving a trail of drips and droppings like a caught-in-the-act raccoon? Why does anyone bother making such impossible bags – and why would anyone buy them?
Well, I'd run out of options at my grocery store. Now what?
Avocado shells and onion skins mounting, I huffed off toward an eco-minded grocer in search of au secours. There, to my great relief, I discovered NaturSac, a line of garbage bags made in Quebec to which I've since become loyal.
The bags are 100-per-cent biodegradable, which makes me feel virtuous even if the city doesn’t require it. They’re also scent-free and strong, which makes me feel like there might be hope for the future after all.
ne_credit">www.natursac.com; Available in grocery stores for the eco-minded. $3.99 for a roll of 25.
Do you know of a genius domestic product? If so, Laura wants to hear about it. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org.