So the other night we got a Blue Apron box. Blue Apron is this business that delivers all the ingredients for meals in their own, pre-measured packages so you can just dump and mix like the cooks on TV. Cool idea for low-functioning, sleep-deprived people like me, but I was horrified by the amount of packaging. 
To give the company credit, these exact portions virtually eliminate food waste from cooking. But, I mean, we are talking about individually bagged celery stalks here. We are talking multiple pounds of frozen gel cooler thingies.
Fortunately, this was printed on the box to ease my green guilt:
OK! But then, when I try to check that out, (A) there’s no obvious links from the website, so you have to remember and type out the URL (which is the modern-day equivalent of putting it in a basement with no lights or stairs and a sign that says “beware of the leopard” over the door). And (B) actually, that web page doesn’t exist. Oh no wait, here it is! It’s “/recycling,” not “/recycle.” Duh, got it.
OK great, so now I’m here and I’m ready to take directions and recycle the whole mess.
“Recycling your Blue Apron box’s packing materials takes under five minutes.”
Yes! I’m psyched. Let’s do this.
“To recycle, first consolidate all the little plastic bags and cups and consolidate them into one big bag, then recycle the whole shebang. Most cities do recycle these, but be sure to check the specific listings where you live.”
OK, hold up. I’m confused about the two consolidations. And the big bag. Can I just skip to the part where I recycle the whole shebang? Wait, how are you even helping?
“Melt our nontoxic ice packs, cut them open, and pour the gel into a plastic bag, which you can then dispose. Recycle the package.”
Let me get this clear: You want me to melt these puppies, cut open the plastic bags, transfer the oobleck therein to another plastic bag, and then “dispose?” OK, sure, that’s reasonable — but how do I do that in under five minutes? Are lasers involved?
“You could also consider keeping the ice packs for future picnics or donating them to local boy scout troops or meal delivery charities.”
That sounds plausible for all the people who are ordering Blue Apron because they can’t figure out how to go to the grocery store. They could also consider molding all that non-toxic gel into a majestic frozen wizard fortress or a trendy ice-box gnome.
“We’ve selected insulated liners that are biodegradable, so you can dispose of them in your trash with minimal environmental impact.”
Oh I get it, dispose of it in the trash! Why didn’t I think of that? To the landfill! Excelsior!
