"Would you like some hot sauce?'
"Oh, sure. The medium kind."
I drive off, I open the bag at the stop and find--is it one?--is it five?--how many this time? This mumbling window guy has big hands--there are eight packets of hot sauce in the bag with my one small taco today.
On the sidewalk,
Here's one tucked under some leaf mulch.
Condiment packets were not the only litter, of course. There were straws, cans, gum and candy wrappers, soft drink lids and straws, receipts, plastic bags. I even saw about a dozen bank deposit slips.
The condiment packets sat in solitary company to posts. Or gathered in committee meetings of as many as half a dozen.
Now these guys would certainly welcome condiment packets in their weekly gatherings. They were downright friendly as I walked past.
Of course, they probably did not realize that I had just taken two dozen pictures of condiment packets.Taco Sauce
So the question remains: what's the deal with all the condiments? Why does the mumbly guy with the big hands at the window give me as many as a dozen hot sauces, or as many catsups and neglect to give me one napkin? If they didn't give us so many more than we need, would there be so many strewn all over the place along the street? Does the convenience store have a trash can outside the door where folks could toss their condiment packets? Why are there condiment packets on our road, too? We are two miles out in the country.
And finally, would you like some hot sauce on that?