The congested throat rumble of the garbage truck reached my ears as I was in the middle of taping up another box of books. Panicked, I dropped the packing tape. It rolled across the floor picking up cat and dog hair, creating the perfect cushion for safely packing china and glassware. As an added bonus, our floor had never looked so clean. I ran to the window and watched the slow progression of the sanitation truck lumber down the street like a drunken pirate hungry for my booty boxes. A bounty of boxes. Short boxes! Tall boxes! Big boxes! Small boxes! But, best of all, free boxes! Curses! Recycling pickup wasn’t supposed to be for another two hours! It was a race against the truck to get the treasure trove of boxes sitting on the storefront curbs.

Two weeks earlier, Mr. Dingo got laid off and our life was thrown into disarray. We had to move. We needed boxes. We were broke. But I was up for the challenge. After all, I’m here to inform you how to live green on very little green. I just didn’t think I’d have to put my lack of money where my mouth is. But my pain is your gain.

You’re welcome.

For previous moves, Mr. Dingo and I purchased moving boxes at an office supply store or directly from the moving company. That wasn’t an option this time. Moving boxes are expensive! And buying boxes is not very green when there are so many used boxes sitting around waiting to be adopted. I scoured Craigslist and Freecycle for free moving boxes and found tons of boxes for the taking. Even moving companies such as U-Haul have message boards where people can post information about moving supplies they are willing to trade, sell, or buy. Yes, some people try to sell their moving boxes after the move is done. Now, Innernetz, that is cheap. Yes, it’s recycling and, yes, it’s greener than just dragging those boxes to the curb, but when you start to worry about the resale value of your boxes during an already stressful move, you are ready to bring home the gold in the Cheap Olympics.

The gently-used and free boxes were located uptown, downtown, and everywhere but down the block so I could pick them up without having to use mass transit. Let me tell you: boxes are heavy even before you stuff them with your collection of vintage socks. Getting moving boxes on a crosstown bus and back to my apartment would make an interesting challenge on City Survivor: The We’ve-Run-Out-of-Exotic-Locales-Where-We-Can-Appropriate-Native-Customs-For-Demeaning-Amusement Edition but isn’t feasible here in the real world. Borrowing a car or taking a cab would nullify the cost-savings of obtaining the used boxes, and the various trips in stop-and-go traffic would muddy the greenness of the whole adventure, making my moving experience the color of dirty turtles. I like turtles a lot, but they shouldn’t have anything to do with moving. Now, if you live in the ‘burbs or already have a car that you would use to pick up your boxes anyway, Craigslist and Freecycle might be an option for your moving box needs. Just hop in your gas-guzzling, emissions-spewing SUV recalled Prius hybrid and go get those free boxes without even thinking of the poor turtles!

Another option that’s gaining momentum is featured by companies such as Rent A Green Box and Moving Green. Not only do they rent plastic recycled packing boxes but their moving supplies are also made from recycled materials. And once their packing boxes have reached the end of their usefulness, they’re recycled to make new ones. It’s kinda like Soylent Green for boxes without the toenail aftertaste.

Like many great eco-ideas, however, earth friendly moving is often priced out of reach for the cash-strapped. Too often, going green is easiest for those with plenty of green to start with. In my case, I needed free boxes. My other options included learning how to balance all my belongings on my head or hitching a wagon to Dingo Girl and yelling “Giddy Up!” Neither was a good alternative. I lack poise and balance and could fail a sobriety test stone cold sober. Also, the top of my head is round. Boxes are flat. And Dingo Girl? She doesn’t even carry her own weight around here, forget about carrying anyone else’s. Free boxes seemed like the best solution.

With no time to don gloves or even a scarf, I dashed down the stairs and into the streets. I had to save my precious boxes. Wearing nothing but my flannel jammies and mismatched slippers I ran to the curb. Whew! The boxes were still there but the trucks were coming, belching exhaust and, well, just belching in general. They are garbage trucks. Their giant maws chomped and ground the boxes down the block that I was too late to save. Slipping and sliding in my mismatched soles, I made it to the corner where I began rummaging through the boxes not yet soaked by the drizzle that had just started to fall. This one was too small. That one was too big. But these two? These two were just right. I did a victory dance. Oh yeah, oh yeah, go Dingo, go Dingo! In the middle of my jubilation I noticed a trench-coated man staring at me intently. Oh no you don’t, I thought. Do NOT flash me, you pervert. My celebration dampened by his overt stares and the increasing rain, I gathered up as many boxes as I could. But they kept slipping from my grasp. And I kept having to stop to pull up my jammie bottoms. It was not my finest hour. After about thirty seconds, Trench-Coat Man cleared his throat and approached me.

“Excuse me, do you need some help?” he asked. The apartment was just a few doors away. If he could just carry a box or two to the front of the building —

Deciding to risk that he was a good Samaritan and not a freak, I said, “Yes, would you —”

“Of course,” he replied reaching out his hand. I adjusted the boxes and began to hand him the large box that formerly housed cans of paint when I noticed something in his hand. He looked at me eagerly, almost expectantly, a compassionate smile on his face. Oh no. Nonononononono. I involuntarily recoiled from his outstretched hand. And the dollar bill. “We all need a little help sometimes,” he said kindly.

I hurried to correct him. “Oh no, I just need boxes,” I said as I gestured to the cardboard that was quickly getting soaked and becoming useless. He remained unconvinced.

“You can buy coffee or something to eat,” he insisted.

“I don’t want something to eat! I just want boxes! And they’re getting wet! What good will the boxes be if they’re wet?!?”

My vehemence startled him and he stepped back and quickly walked away looking over his shoulder as if I were just another crazy on the streets of New York. But we all know who’s the crazy one, right, Innernetz? Innernetz! Him! Not me!

By this time, the trucks had reached my corner, paused briefly, and continued on, leaving me and my pile of wet, smelly boxes on the curb. Both of my slippers drenched — my bootie slipper bunched around my ankle and my bunny slipper’s ears drooping to the ground — I trudged upstairs empty handed.

Eventually, thanks largely to the gracious nightly generosity of neighborhood liquor stores, I scored enough free boxes to pack my entire apartment. Although I got a few stares from my new neighbors when I unloaded my thirtieth box of hooch, they all wanted to be invited to my housewarming party.

And that, dear Innernetz, is how Dingo made moving green without spending a lot of green. Follow my example. And remember the turtles.