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I don't recycle-there, I said it. I throw my plastic and paper bags, my bottles and cans and milk cartons, all into the same white GLAD trash bag and down the chute. I buy bottled water; I take long showers; I leave the water running while I brush my teeth (twice a day). I buy single-servings of tuna salad at D'Agostino and cram the plastic containers into the trash. I like my clothes dry-cleaned, and my food preserved; I'm giddy at the fresh scent of my chemical-laden Mr. Clean. I love Clorox©. Plus, I'm a writer, so I like paper. I had a dream before my first book was published that they had to cut down an entire redwood forest to handle sales, and I was thrilled! If I had a car (I don't) it would be idling as I write. I know, I'm going to hell. Green has just never been my color. On the other hand, as a small, childless woman in New York City, there's a limit to the damage I can do. My consumption level-compared with suburban childbearing people-is practically zilch. I live in a small one-bedroom apartment, and I take the subway or I walk. I open my windows when it's warm. I don't shuttle back and forth to soccer games or Costco in a low-mileage SUV. Without lifting a finger, I do less laundry, use less water and paper towels than any "Go Solar!" bumper-stickered Explorer in town. Without intending to, I live a fairly eco-friendly life. But being purposefully green? Not me. Naturally Blue Egg, beacon of sustainable living, wanted me to write something about being green. "Let's start with housekeeping," they said. So I found a green housekeeper: "Ms. Green Clean," Cori Morenberg. New York's self-proclaimed, "premier eco-friendly commercial and residential green cleaning maid service." Cori is a, "compulsive obsessive 30-something with a degree in botany and penchant for cleaning," according to her web site. Her husband is a champion tree climber. I tried to imagine a champion tree climber; I tried to imagine mixing my own cleaners, or having a penchant for cleaning. I couldn't imagine. I called her anyway. Like most good things, it started off badly, with Cori bouncing in at 9 a.m. armed with buckets and vigor and a green Izod shirt. Nine a.m. is my middle of the night. I let her in and went back to bed, but green has no patience for sleep. "Where's the vacuum?" Cori shouted. And, "I need more quarters!" She washed some clothes I'd set aside for dry-cleaning, wrinkling my favorite silk dress, so I sheepishly pointed out the iron, then took it back. Irons eat electricity, and there was my carbon footprint to worry about. I'd had a party the night before to make it interesting. Let's see your microfiber eco-cloth and tea tree oils take on those gin-soaked walnut floors, I thought. I didn't think Cori's water and vinegar stood a chance with the sticky prints on my Dunbar table, the cigarette scum in my Murano crystal ashtrays. I doubted her hand-mixed organic cleaners could hold a soy candle to Pine-Sol®. I was wrong. I went out for coffee while Cori finished, and the apartment was beautiful when I came back. The walls gleamed, the floors were shiny, my Murano glass twinkled-and it smelled fantastic. (Though she'd plugged a device in the wall to create it-an Aroma Stream electric diffuser. Was that on my carbon footprint, or hers?) I checked out the bathroom; it smelled great and looked spotless, and I was just about to walk out when I saw out of the corner of my eye, a footprint-a very discernable footprint in my bathtub. Not carbon, but still. Footprints notwithstanding, I was pleased. Cori left a chocolate on the counter with her bill: 3 hours, two people, $240. Not much more than I pay Lydia, my regular housekeeper, and I had none of that day-after chemical hangover. It's been three weeks since Ms. Green Clean and I still don't recycle. But I like the smell of green, I do, and I like green Izod shirts. Last week I put my empty Diet Coke can on the counter and I asked my dry cleaner not to cover my clothes with plastic. I'm not promising anything (the Diet Coke cans are piling up), but it's a start! What Ms. Green Clean used: Mirrors: A spray of vinegar, water and eco-friendly plant-derived dish soap Bathroom: Walls, baseboards: All-purpose cleaning solution of Octagon soap, Sal Suds, and a few drops of tea tree oil. Tub and sink: Bon Ami Gin-soaked hardwood floors: - Octagon soap, Dr. Bronner's Sal Suds, and essential oils of lavender and grapefruit
Kitchen: Granite counters: Granite and marble cleaner by Method Dusting: Soft cloth dampened with pure lemon oil and touch of water Linens, upholstery and air freshener: Cigarette ash on my Tibetan silk rug: - Solution of mild soap and water
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