It’s not in the bag

Given the environmental righteousness of Sonoma County, I’m going to say something that might be downright sacrilegious: I like plastic bags. You know, the ones that were ubiquitous at every store before the ban on plastic bags went into effect last Monday.

Now what am I going to use to line the garbage cans under the sinks? And what do we use to scoop the cat litter into? And how about dog owners – when we had our dog, if I forgot to bring a bag, I could always count on grabbing one from the container at the dog park that dispensed hot and cold running plastic bags.  Will those be empty now?

Over the years, I have become a connoisseur of plastic bags. The ones from Target were the best; not too huge but big enough to do the job and made from very durable plastic. My next favorite bags were the ones from Oliver’s; sturdy and an unobtrusive shade of green. Grocery Outlet bags were a close third in terms of useful size and durability but their egg-yolk yellow color made the garbage can seem to leap out from under the sink every time I opened the cabinet door.

The worst bags were the Safeway and Lucky bags; thin and easily torn. We’re sure our orange house cat invites German Shepherds into the house to use the litter box while we’re at work. So when the plastic bag filled with the contents of that litter box breaks on the way to the trash, we quickly discovered that the Safeway bags weren’t worth…well, let me just say that we learned to double bag them.

Not being very experienced in packing groceries and knowing the reusable bags would get yucky (how delightful to discover chicken juice at the bottom of a polypropylene bag), I have stocked up on reusable bags from every store I shop at. Now I would be so happy if I could only remember to pluck a couple of these reusable bags from the hundred that are filling up my back seat before I get to the checkout counter.

I wonder how far I have to travel to find a city in California that hasn’t banned plastic bags. I’m considering making a midnight run for contraband. I can’t be the only one in Northern California who craves plastic – 2 mils, smooth, white and perfectly sized.

Is there potential for an HBO series here? It would be a dark comedy-drama, in which a mild mannered mother of three whose husband doesn’t have a heart attack (because he has triple bypass surgery) begins selling black market plastic bags to pay off her kids’ student loans. I think I’ll call it “Bags.”

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