True Confessions of an Avid Composter

One of the more daunting tasks that I have one week to accomplish is the cleaning out of my composting bin. It’s not the reeking pile of degrading compostables from the last two years that is so deterring. It’s not even the physical labor of moving a few hundred pounds of compost that has overwhelmed me. The truth is: I am addicted to composting. I can’t stop.

Most compost takes about six weeks or more to break down into useable soil. I should have stopped about two months ago, so as to make the process of cleaning out my composting bin easier. But I can’t stop. I just keep throwing away those banana peels, coffee grounds, egg shells, cucumber skins, watermelon rinds, laundry lint, etc. Every time I open my classy kitchen counter composter and throw in another remnant of onion or apple, it feels good.

I’d like to say that all this crazy composting came about for nobler reasons, like environmental awareness or better soil for my plants or less waste. That may be what I told myself in the beginning, but now I realize that I compost because it is an outlet for my obsessive behaviors.

I blame Chris, a friend of mine, who introduced me to composting two summers ago. We stayed with Chris and her family for a few days and I got to see firsthand the exhilarating chore of composting. Chris claimed to be obsessed with composting and gave me a quick tutorial on the how to’s. At the time I thought, “That’s a weird thing to be obsessed with.” But now look at me! I am a mess, albeit environmentally greener.

My compromise is that I will use my neighbors’ compost for the next two and a half months until we leave. That makes me feel a little bit better. And, Chris has found a home for my beloved composting bin (to be delivered in two weeks).

So I had better get digging.


Filed under Outdoors, Packing

7 responses to “True Confessions of an Avid Composter

  1. Ginny Hyland

    I love your posts. You should be a writer!

  2. Rick

    I think that Toby and I need to start a support group called “Husbands of Obsessed Composters.”

  3. Pingback: Rotten Bananas « The Mustard Patch

  4. Chris

    If it makes you feel better, the composter officially has a name – Gertrude. We will lovingly call her Gertie for short.

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