A Bad Start

When I saw the mess on the pavement I sighed. It is garbage day and my brother-in-law took the dustbin out when he went to work this morning. The bin was on its side and the contents were strewn over the place; luckily mostly in smaller plastic shopping bags, but they were all torn and some of the contents were spilled out.

Among others, a larger bin liner that was filled with old clothes that I had discarded during the week. Most were pulled out through the gaping hole in the side. Bloody dogs, I muttered as I started collecting the clothes.

“I hope you plan to clean up this mess when you’re done,” the voice said behind me. She had a terrible accent. I once met an English couple who spoke like that. They came from Yorkshire. I was pissed off and she did not improve my mood. I ignored her while I carried on with my menial task.

“My friend told me to look out for you vagrants raiding the dustbins and making a mess.” I still kept quiet, hoping she would go away. She disappointed me. “You South-Africans are very messy. I’m from England.”

“Yorkshire?” I asked, but more like a statement than a question.

“Yes, how did you know?” I almost told her I’m psychic but checked myself just in time. It would just have opened another topic for discussion.

“An educated guess”, I said while I righted the dustbin and started putting the bags back in the bin. For the first time I looked at her and wondered why she mistook me for a homeless person.

She was a rather plain Jane and in my slightly faded blue jeans, blue & white striped golf shirt and blue Nikes, I was certainly better dressed than her. My hair was neat; I only had it trimmed yesterday and I was cleanly shaved. Maybe I wore too much blue to her liking. I wondered if she would approve of my red underpants as I opened the gate to go back inside.

“Hey, where are you going?” she asked.

“I live here, do you mind?”

“Is it your house?”

No”, I said. At least that part was true. “The house belongs to an eccentric millionaire and I’m looking after it while he is abroad.”

“They say these eccentric millionaires are very stingy and they dress shabbily. Does he pay you to look after his house?”

“No, but he said that I may wear his clothes while he’s not here.” I don’t even feel guilty about all the lies. My brother-in-law is not a millionaire, he is not abroad and his clothes will be much too large for me.

She stared at me for a few seconds, probably trying to figure if I was serious. “You know, sarcasm won’t get you anywhere”, she said.

“True, but then I was not going anywhere. I’m not dressed for it.”

“Oh!! You are such an a**hole!” she said as she wheeled around on the one heel and sauntered across the road. Only then I noticed what a sexy a** she has. As she entered the granny flat across the road I realized that she was my neighbor's new tenant. Not a good start at all.