So I was cleaning the bathroom the other day, wondering to myself how three children can make one room smell like a subway station urinal in a matter of hours, when I spied the empty toilet paper roll, cardboard and bare on the counter.

Of course, no one had thought to put more toilet paper out, that would be far too much effort, nor had he or she endeavored to pop the roll into the trash can. But as I grabbed to throw it away, I stopped myself–wondering, as I do a hundred times a day these days, if it can be recycled.

It’s paper, right? But there’s glue or some kind of toilet paper adhesive stuck to it. Does that mean I can’t throw it in? If I can, what else up here can go in the blue bin? What about my almost-empty shampoo bottle? Should I leave the roll up here until that’s done and then take them both down together? What if I leave it and the Barnacle finds it and shreds it all over the floor? What if someone else finds it and throws it in the trash? Will I dig it out? Will I be able to find it? Will I go to bad environmentalist hell if I can’t?!?

And then the reality hit me: I’m stressing over a f$%*&g toilet paper roll.

It’s not that I don’t think it’s important to recycle and flip off the lights and walk as much as possible and buy organic and plant a victory garden and try out newfangled emissions-reducing-gas-mileage-increasing technology on my SUV because I can’t afford the lease on a hybrid.

It’s just getting exhausting. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t learned about toxins and pesticides and global warming. It would be damned easier to keep my head in the sand and stick with the routine.

Life now is like living a constant double-take, where you go to do what you’ve always done and then–stop!–realize that you need to think about its environmental implications. But it helps if I look at it as a game, a challenge in which I have to remake my square life into a newly round hole. (“EcoAvenger Mommy Greenest Vs. The Loo!”)

Also helpful is to remember the stakes: Not to get all heavy on you or anything, but a recent report showed that we’re using our natural resources and producing waste (mostly CO2) at thirty percent percent more than what our planet can support.

As an average American, my Ecological Footprint is about 23.3 acres–the equivalent of 17 football fields. This isn’t as bad as the print of the average citizen of the United Arab Emirates (23.4 acres), but it’s a heckuva lot worse than your average Haitian (1.5 acres), who also doesn’t receive basic food, shelter, infrastructure and sanitation.

At this rate, by the early 2030s we’ll need two planets to meet our needs. And here’s the truly scary part: Two years ago they projected this point would be in 2050.

So we do what we can, in small ways every day, by holding each event in our lives up to the litmus test of: Can I do this another way so it has less of an impact on the earth?

The toilet paper roll encounter is a perfect example. In olden times I would have just tossed it in the trash. A few days ago I planted a separate trash can in the bathroom to collect empty shampoo and bubble bath bottles, lotion containers, toothbrushes, razor stems (no blades) and, yes, toilet paper rolls that are destined for the recycling bin.

Eight out of 10 plastic bottles aren’t recycled in this country. My shampoo bottle won’t be one of them. But I wonder what the stats are on toilet paper rolls?