Trash Neighbour (Me)

If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then mine could probably do with a bit of a wash. You see, for the past year or so I’ve been secretly chucking my green waste over the back fence into my neighbour’s jungle of a yard, thinking they wouldn’t notice. Well, this weekend they confronted me about it, saying that they’d known all along and have had enough of the various invasive plants that keep popping up in their food.


How was I to know that they’re running a highly curated operation back there? Now I’m kind of ashamed to show my face to the neighbours, but there’s not much I can do to avoid them short of staying inside and investing in some serious window frosting. Melbourne residents, have you had neighbourly interactions of this nature? They’re so smug over there, with their rooftop solar, film camera collection and paleo coffee.


There was a situation kind of like this at the office one time. Pierre from accounts thought he could get away with sneaking yoghurts from the fridge, even though he sort of knew they were Belinda’s. He was doing this for about two months before Belinda came out with it and asked him to stop.


There was a bit of awkwardness after this, in large part because Belinda had waited so long to say something, although she shouldn’t really have had to. Again, there wasn’t much that could be done by Pierre to block out the harsh rays of judgement from HR, beyond lobbying for office tinting services to be engaged, thereby creating an impervious partition between departments. Obviously, neither of these situations are a very big deal; in fact they’re pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. It’s just a case of the way people look at you differently when they know you’ve been up to something at their expense, and they know that you know. Their gaze takes on distinct notes of disdain and pity. And the worst thing about it is that you’ve brought it upon yourself, knowing full well what you were doing the whole time.