Your pre-punched card

Saying "avoid single-use plastic" is becoming more and more trendy.  Why is that?  The phrase "single-use" itself is a kind of a convenient way of distinguishing plastic that's increasingly getting a bad rap (straws and shopping bags are two examples that spring to mind) from plastic things most people think are good (bicycle helmets, anyone?).  

But in terms of describing HOW a body goes about avoiding this stuff, the phrase lacks teeth and direction.   As my friend TL pointed out, plastic is all around us, sitting on our shelves and woven into our lives -- how can a body even get started in using less of it?  And in the interest of being helpful and informative and even a little bossy, I'm going to suggest we split this category down a little further, and give you a chance for an easy "win" so that you can think about moving away from plastic with optimism.

Splitting "single-use" down a little further:  There's the single-use stuff that we buy because we actually want it, and there's the single-use stuff we buy because it comes attached to the stuff we actually want.

In the first case, which you might call the "single-usable" case, you can envision things like plastic forks, or straws, or cling wrap.   You use the fork, or the straw, or the cling wrap directly.   In the second case, we have the vast category of packaging:  the bubble envelope that my wooden toilet brush was mailed in, the plastic bag inside the cardboard box of cereal, the plastic water bottles.

Ironically, it's a lot easier to avoid the single-use plastic stuff we want than to get rid of the plastic stuff we don't want.  That's because, as with my awesome wooden toilet bowl brush, there are often non-plastic alternatives to these plastic things.  

So many examples of plastic things with easy alternatives spring to mind:

• plastic forks and plates and such?  Reusable versions abound.
• cling wrap?  Use a plate on top of the bowl, or a resealable container instead
• balloons?  We can celebrate with paper/cloth banners, lanterns, flowers, etc.

I'm sure you wanted to see inside my refrigerator.
Because, plates on bowls.

Indeed, I think for so many reasons, the "single-usable" category is the best place to start reducing our plastic dependencies, because there's a decent chance you've already started.   Maybe you don't use disposable plastic forks and cups at home; you have reusable ones.  Score one for you!  Maybe you use gift bags instead of wrapping presents with gift paper tied with plastic ribbon.  Fab!  There's a bunch of stuff that you pass by in any given store that you *don't* buy and then throw away, and I think it's worth noting that.

Why do I think it's worth noting?  Because psychologists tell us we're more likely to undergo a challenge if we've already taken the first steps.   In fact, we're more likely to persist even if it's other people who give us a head start.   For example, people are more likely to use a "buy 10, get one free" card that comes with two holes pre-punched than they are to use a "buy 8, get one free" card.   (And the math isn't hard: either way, people realize these cards mean they can get 9 for the price of 8).   Dave Ramsey's "Debt snowball" strategy is another famous example of how helpful (emotionally) it is to go for small, easy wins at the start.  So, if we know we're more likely to get to the end of something hard if we can have some of the beginning steps at our backs, it's worth pointing out that there is already single-use plastic that you successfully avoid.   Your card already has a bunch of pre-punched holes, man.  

Is there any way to celebrate the holiday without buying
these plastic balloons, I wonder?  Hmmm . . . 

But thinking about the plastic we don't buy isn't just a gimmicky accounting schtick; it's way better than that.  One of my favorite organizing gurus, Julia Morgenstern, writes about how even her most hopelessly disorganized clients have some small area of their homes or office that makes sense, and she uses that as a springboard for changing other areas.  She describes, for example, one person's disaster of a closet . . . with a beautifully organized belt rack. 

Interestingly, I noticed that standing alone amid the chaos of her closet was a solitary oasis of order: one perfectly organized belt rack. She wore belts every day and consistently returned them to that rack in their special places, arranged and separated by color and style. We talked about why that one system worked so well for her, and, lo and behold, we found several very logical reasons. First, the rack was the perfect size for the number of belts she owned, so she could fit them all evenly without crowding. Second, she loved the modern design of the piece, a rich and polished wood with rounded pegs that appealed to her sense of aesthetics and gave her joy every time she used it. And third, since the rack was mounted on the inside of her closet door, which swung out into the room when opened, it happened to be the only part of the closet that received enough light.

Understanding this, our goal thus became making the rest of her closet work as well as that belt rack . . . 

Looking at our success begets further success.  So it makes sense, as we start, not only to think about what we want to change, but also to think about where (and why) we're already doing the right thing.

So here's a place to start, TL:  the next time you go to the grocery store or the pharmacy (virtual or physical), take note of what kinds of plastic you don't buy.  You often pass by the stands of plastic kitsch that you don't even give a second thought to, because you have alternatives you prefer at home.   This time as you browse the aisles, give yourself the grace of realizing that this means that there's one battle you don't have to face in the "war" against plastic; it's a step you've already won.