Big Trash

Yesterday was Big Trash Day in our town. Big Trash Day only comes once a year, usually in mid January. For me, it marks the official closing of the holiday season--the brother bookend to Halloween.

Big Trash Day is the day we get to get rid of all the junk that has accumulated around the house over the year. The old rusted out barbecue grill, broken chairs, dead computer parts, the stuff that nobody bought at the garage sale, and so on. We put it all out into the street and a couple of guys in a big truck and a scooper tractor thing come around and haul it all away.
Each year the waste management company sends out a flyer announcing when Big Trash Day will be celebrated in our neighborhood, along with an admonishment to be sure to only put stuff out the day before, and no earlier. This year Big Trash Day fell on a Thursday, so piles began forming at curbside over the weekend, and grew steadily throughout the week.

One of the real highlights has to be Big Trash Eve, which finds a parade of small trucks and old station wagons prowling the neighborhood; stopping here and there, tossing something in the back and moving on. For indeed, one man's trash is another's treasure. And there is a lot of cool stuff out there. The waste management company strongly discourages this, for reasons unknown. Maybe they have a landfill quota to meet or something. But generally, everyone goes away happy.

We didn't have much this year. Just an old card table, a retired cat box and the christmas tree. There is always a debate in our house about whether the tree qualifies as Big Trash. They always send out a thing reminding us to cut up our tree and put it in the yard clippings can, but I always just put it out for Big Trash day. Some people think the feast of Epiphany is the end of the Christmas season, but I know better. It is the feast of Big Trash.

Big Trash Grinch

My next-door neighbor rang my doorbell a little while ago. This is unusual, because he generally pretends I don't exist. I'm not sure why. When we moved in here a few years ago, I went around and introduced myself to everyone. He was the only neighbor who didn't tell me his name. I still wave to him and say hi and stuff, but he generally doesn't respond. His wife always smiles, though. Oh, and I know his name--it's Larry. I think he's a lawyer or something.

So I answer the door, and he says, "Hi, did you put a bunch of paint cans in my trash heap yesterday?" Well, I didn't, and I said so.

I guess someone came around on Big Trash Eve and buried a couple of bags full of paint cans in his heap. When the Big Trash guys came around, they pulled them out and tossed them up onto Larry's lawn. They won't take stuff like that. Paint, chemicals, dead animals--all forbidden.

After my denial of responsibility, he goes on to point out that it myst have been someone around here, because we live in a pretty out-of-the-way neighborhood. Well, it wasn't me, Larry.

This really bothers me. I have lived a few feet away from this guy for over three years now, and have always tried to be a decent neighbor. As far as I know, I have never done anything to give the impression that I would sabotage his Big Trash. If they had picked my pile instead of his, it would never have occurred to me that it might have been him (he?) that did it.

I feel a strong urge to go over and knock on his door and either:
a. ask him why he thought I would do something like that, or
b. tell him to fuck off.