Selective garbage collection... Mother of God!

In our village, the garbage collection system with a card has just been "implemented" (and you will excuse my word). There has been a considerable uproar about knowing which day they "closed" the refuse, to which you are entitled two days a week, unless you produce diapers, and if the glass was always open. The plastic containers now have a round opening the size of a medium lid. We generate so much plastic every day that the bags, when full, do not pass through the hole. The idea of the inventor of the contraption is praiseworthy: that they take the plastic out of the bag and put it in place. But, of course, the result is that the areas around the containers are full of bags (rummaged through by wild boars) that people leave on the ground "because they don't fit." Since we coexist with the human fauna that goes to rural tourism houses to bathe in the prefabricated pool with Shakira playing in the background (what gets into them, when they bathe, with Shakira?), there are broth bags full of bottled liquor bottles on the ground. What would it have cost them to put them in the glass container? The same as it costs them to buy an un-retracted lettuce and clean it of the dirt it may contain. They will do crossfit, yes, but lifting their arm to throw the plastics and bottles through the hole is something they won't do.

If they did, I myself, from this privileged page, would make a heroic saga out of it. It would be an epic poem in which the "touristam" (national "touristam", mind you), in a line, would be throwing now the polystyrene, now the five-liter oil bottle, now the paper wrapping the cooked ham and the corresponding "separators", now the fly swatter, now the Laturca rum bottle, now the Ulcèric gin, now the Korrosiva vodka...