Bin Bother

One thing that has always puzzled me is how our black bin fills up each fortnight. Either my housemates are able to generate an inordinate amount of waste which can't or they don't recycle or someone uses our bin for fly-tipping. So, imagine my irritation when I noticed that our bin was overflowing. The sight and the memory of it kept bothering me so I eventually went out, moved some stuff around and managed to all but close the lid. The person who had dumped the last bag had lifted the lid and dropped the bag without taking any trouble to make it fit. My labour was futile because my ass of a housemate, who moved out today, made it overglow again. He is of Indian origin so I have to actively resist making this a post about upper-caste attitudes towards garbage. After he had left, our bin was looking like a walrus with its mouth wide open. I sent the pic to some friends, and they confirmed that there was no way the bin collectors would pick it up. I told my housemate about it, and she agreed it was a problem, and promptly washed her hands off it, saying she didn't know what to do. I wish I could learn from her how not to give a fuck. But, I do give a fuck, and in Covid times I give more of a fuck than usual. A friend told me to dump the overflow into someone else's bin on the sly. I am not good at being sneaky, which is very un-Indian and very INFJ. The thought of being caught and dying of humiliation is too much to bear. I thought of asking my weird neighbour who barely ever puts any bins out if he had space. But, when I knocked on his door there was no answer. I don't know why houses here don't have doorbells. I sly checked his neighbour's bin, which was full. But, two doors down on the other side had plenty of room. I eventually managed to reduce the size of the overflow because I discovered my housemate had dumped an eminently recyclable carton in the bin. Dumping a modestly sized parcel into someone else's bin didn't feel all that bad.

I am not going to beat myself up about getting worked up about such a small thing. Part of it is my anxious personality and a part of it comes from not wanting to inconvenience other people. It is easy for some people to do that--make their problem someone else's problem, especially if there are no likely repercussions. It is not easy for me to do that, and I don't feel why I should feel ashamed about it. I frequently clean up after my housemates, sort out the recycling when they miss it up and I am the only one who ever bothers to clean the common areas. I have decided that I will not allow myself to feel resentful about it, and have largely succeeded. I like a clean house and a quiet house, and I can do more about the former than the latter. I decided that as long as my housemates didn't disturb my sleep, I would tolerate their unclean ways. But, having our rubbish go uncollected because a knobhead dumped too much stuff while moving out, is annoying. I managed to sort it out, and I don't expect any gratitude, just like I don't expect my housemates to even notice that I keep the house clean. So, I find little to fault with my approach.