Scene 2: I walk downstairs the next "morning" at 2 pm with a massive hangover and overlook the battlefield of bloody red solo cups. A little voice in my head (coming from the surviving brain cells) will seductively whisper "Recycle Yo Solo Cups Fool!". I pledge to listen to that breathy voice. Upon recovering, I will also try to think about how to reduce and reuse the bounty of stuff I use and throw out. But hey, baby steps!