I have a neighbor, a great big man that could make a person walk the opposite direction just based on first impressions. He towers above the 6 foot fences. When I've sat in my backyard and watched him walk down the alley, I've often thought of him as the floating head man. Once in awhile I see him attached to his body while I'm taking my trash out to the alley. With an unobstructed full body appraisal, I notice he walks with a swagger that could export him right onto the pages of some dusty old western book.
He wears faded denim overalls, with one brown patch on the right knee. They earn the label of 'high waters' because they land a good 2 or 3 inches above the top of his boots. Clunky black combat boots that pound the dirt in the alley to the rhythm of his swagger. If I can't see him yet, I can usually hear him coming. His hair is always wildly sculpting his face, a piece flying this way, a chunk flying that away.....and if it wasn't for the fact he always grins at me from ear to ear when he meets me in the alley, or when he's peeking over the top of my fence, I'd probably call the cops and rant about a crazy man (although, I should anyway).
Here's my problem with my gigantic grinning neighbor. He goes through my trash. I believe he goes through every one's trash since the things we dispose of are cleverly taken out daily (we never have to worry about missing trash day) and hidden out of sight, out of mind, in the alley behind our homes. Seven day a week standby style.
So, if your a trash pickerthrougher, the alley is a smorgasbord of delights to be sifted through on a daily basis. And knowing he does this gives me a case of the heebie jeebies.
I know they say, "One Ladies trash is another Mans treasure." But seriously, there are certain things that go into a ladies trash that another man has no business discovering. I never buy white trash bags anymore, I'm all about 3m, black contractor bags now. But, he has a pocket knife and my bags are no match for a trash sifter with blade.
Perhaps I shouldn't care and look the other way, but these days every single thing I throw away I have to pause, and think, "Hmmm, will he keep my worn out undies as a souvenir if I throw them away?" If you think I'm being dramatic here, just think for a moment about what YOU throw away and if you had to bear the knowledge someone was going through your trash I promise it would give you pause............
And when he grins at me, my overactive imagination flares up and I think, oh shit, he must have saw....blank blank.....in my trash last week. The man knows what I eat, what I read, when my period is, my shredded bills and discarded writing papers. He knows how many diet cokes I drink a week and when someones been sick. He goes through my discards and mayhem, he touches the wasted and used side of my life.
As for him, well I did my own 007 spy work, I walked the alleys until I figured out where he lives. Through the holes in his fence I could see the compilation of years of trash sifting. Piles and piles upon PILES of peoples discards. You name it, I could see it. Pack rat heaven. I could see MY stuff.......an old broken lamp, a blue tent that I had burned a big hole in.....and although I didn't see a shrine of discarded women's underwear, there certainly could have been in the layers and layers of stuff.
Pause, think about it, what would you do?? A curious mind wants to know~~~