suddenly, we're good enough?

My good 'ole neighbor, Arnie, is moonlighting. Apparently his volunteer stint at the post office was taking up an insufficient amount of his time.

As you may recall, Arnie is none too keen on the gay folk - especially when they want to obtain "special rights," such as marriage. He wears his opinion proudly on the bumper of his car, lest his lezzie neighbors forget where he stands. No matter - we don't bother him and he doesn't bother us...in theory anyway.

Our current neighborhood is a hard one to read (well, except for Arnie). Most folks don't seem to socialize with one another at all - there is the occasional nod or hello in passing, but very little conversation happening. Martha, across the street, seems to be the friendliest one and the one who cares the least about the dykes across the street. Norman, who used to live four townhouses down, seemed to like us as well. But he passed away this last winter, so now there is only Martha.

When we first moved into the area, we attended a neighborhood meeting. Most folks wanted to set a bunch of rules, mostly pertaining to noise and dog excrement (none of the local dog-owners or loud people attended this meeting). But Arnie had a different agenda - he wanted to organize a Bible study.

A what?!?!? I thought, but not aloud. He's got to be fucking kidding. He's not serious, is he?

He was very serious. For realz. He even asked for a show of hands of all of those interested. Holy shit, is he really putting people on the spot like this? I instantly felt a rush of empathy for all of the Jewish folk in the room. For this Buddhist-leaning Atheist, Arnie's pompous assumption that the entire room was Christiain AND wanting to study the Bible AND with him, was downright appalling.

I didn't attend any more neighborhood meetings.

And I haven't even crossed paths with Arnie until recently.

J and I were heading in the direction of sleeping on a recent Sunday night when we heard the rattling of glass outside. Having a little bit of a Mrs. Kravitz streak, I jumped out of bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Peeked through the minblinds - there was no sash. When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but my neighbor Arnie and eight of my bottles that once held beer. He sifted and sorted through finished crossword puzzles and canned cat food ick, but only the refundables he opted to pick. He saw empty wine bottles, empty gin bottles and more, surely he thought me an alcoholic - right down to my core.

I have mixed feelings about Arnie dumpster diving in my recycling bins. On the one hand, he must need the money or he wouldn't likely collect cans and bottles from his neighbors. On the other hand, I gather that he's somewhat ashamed of weekly ritual or he wouldn't be tiptoeing down the street at midnight thirty or so. And on the other hand (yep, I've got three hands going here), I don't want him seeing my empty bottles and cans or my discarded Good Vibrations catalogs. Hell, I don't even want him knowing what kind of shampoo I used or whether or not I could finish the Saturday Sudoku puzzle. We have collapsed boxes from ovulation predictor kits and the occasional telltale signs of online CD shopping binges.

This totally feels like an invasion of my privacy.

So what do I do about it? Do I facilitate his hunting and gathering by creating a separate bag, containing the refundables, and put his name on it? Should I just bring them to his doorstep (Arnie's no spring chicken, to be sure) and save him the trouble of toting them down the street? Or do I leave him a note asking him to kindly refrain from sifting through what we've discarded. And put at the curb. Out in the world. Where anyone could whisk it away?

Would I feel the same way if the person ransacking my rejects were anyone but Arnie? Do I feel a sense of resentment that J and I are not good enough for him...but our trash is?????