Id's Cage

Me, my underwear and my neighbors

I got caught taking the garbage out in my underwear again yesterday. This time the old lady across the street stood staring while I pretended I wasn’t walking around outside in my briefs. I could tell she was thinking about confronting me because at one point she took a few steps forward, hesitated and then back-peddled when I waved at her. She did not return my greeting.

That’s the third incident in about that many months with regards to the garbage. I have no love of going out there in my underwear, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Like when I just woke up and I hear the goddamned garbage truck coming. If I take it out the night before some kind of feral beasts knock it over and then I’ve got to clean it up.

The first time I got caught it was by the third world guy who lives caddy corner across the street. I don’t know where those people are from but they know no shame. He actually started a conversation with me about the common area landscaping. And while I’m standing there chatting on the sidewalk wearing only my Hane’s briefs, half the neighborhood starts coming outside to get newspapers, go to work or adjust their sprinkler heads. Cars were going by—the whole nine yards. By the time I extricated myself from the foreign guy I felt like a fucking idiot. He’s going on and on about tree trimming and every time someone came outside he’d call over to them and wave which was drawing more and more attention.

The first time was certainly the most embarrassing. It was just getting light outside and I sprinted with the single trash can held in front of me. I slammed it down on the curb and when I looked up I saw that everyone else had their recycling out as well. That meant two more trips and the garbage truck was only four houses away. With two cars in my driveway there’s not much room left in terms of width so I have to dart across the grass to the garage. I got the cans/bottles container out okay but the old hag across the way was now out putting letters in her mailbox. She looked genuinely shocked. And disturbed. I sprinted back to the garage, thinking fuck the paper and cardboard container, but the grass was wet from the sprinklers and I ended up falling and sliding. My underwear was soaking fucking wet.

At that point I was just pissed off. I calmly got up and got the third container and brought it out to the curb. The old lady and I were twenty feet apart. My underwear was soaking wet from the grass and had mud stains and everything. My legs were muddy, and I had bits of grass sticking to me. I had no hope left. I said, “Good morning.”

She just stared at me, unmoving. Unbelieving. Fortunately the garbage truck literally came between us, and as it stopped to pick up at my place I went back inside. As the garage door was closing I bent down to look underneath and she was still standing there in the same spot. A frozen figure frozen in time.

I’m waiting for the HOA letter.

Posted by Paul! at August 25, 2005 11:05 AM | TrackBack