Sort of Like Recycling

"Don't make any more garbage this week," my husband said.

"Are you referring to my cooking?" I asked.

"No," he said.  "The garbage can is full, so don't make any more garbage."

"I don't create garbage," I told him.

"I know that,"he said.  "I just don't have any room outside, so don't make any more garbage inside."

Garbage pick up day is Thursday.  This was Friday.

For lunch I served him noodles.

"Where's the tuna?" he asked.

"In the pantry," I answered.  "I didn't want to throw a can in the garbage."

"Where's my milk?" he asked.

"Couldn't risk an extra carton," I said.  "So we're having lime Koolade."

"I don't like this," he said.  I didn't ask if he meant the lime drink, the naked noodles, or going without his milk.

"Not making garbage is a family project," I said.

"What are you giving up?"

"Paper towels and paper napkins," I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

"I'm going to the store for a candy bar," he said.

"Be sure to eat it there," I said.

Later he phoned from the office to ask what I was doing.  

"Not making garbage," I said.  "It kind of messes up my schedule.  I'd planned the whole afternoon around making garbage and now I don't have anything to do."

He claimed he had another call and put me on hold.