In the Dead of Night

Some years ago we contacted the Oregonian and asked that the paper be delivered naked, without the plastic bag that is pro forma in these rainy parts. Our paper guy was perfectly cheerful about our request and has never screwed up. Once in a while he goes on vacation and the paper comes bagged, but otherwise the arrangement's gone off without a hitch.

Other plastics have inveigled themselves onto our front porch, though, without discussion. In the wee hours of the morning today, our paper was served with a cereal sample. Macy's buys full-page ads on the inside of the paper, but General Mills has a different approach: they buy a one-time delivery service. A mini-box of Fiber One (with a plastic bag encasing the cereal inside, of course), a Fiber One breakfast bar encased in not-even-recyclable plastic, and a coupon came together in an obnoxiously large plastic bag, unbidden by us and of course unwanted.

Then a little while later someone left a copy of this year's Yellow Pages -- redundant and pointless in the Internet age, tree-killing and of course enveloped in a plastic bag -- on our porch.

We will make some phone calls, return the phone directory if we can, ask to be taken off lists, ask if we can be exempted from all these unasked-for freebies that come with the paper. We don't know if these actions will actually save plastic on the other end. What becomes of the extras? Do they serve any useful end? For all we know, our paper itself does come sheathed in film, and our paper guy just slips it out each early morning before dropping the paper at our door -- happily obliging our eccentricities, merrily unaware of our purposes, chucking the bag in the garbage can on his way back to the car.