I used the wrong trash area. A crime that should know no forgiveness, I know. What can I say? It was 20 degrees and they moved my trash area again (this being about the sixth time and it’s getting no closer, mind you). I got a call from our agent who got a call from the landlord (who lives a few blocks away and has no way of possibly seeing) who must have gotten a call from my neighbors. My agent set me straight though, “Oh Meekso-san, how are you? You must use your own trash area. That trash area near your driveway? That’s for new houses across from you. Not for you. You use the trash around the block. Main street. That’s for you.” I started to say that it was cold and that they moved the trash again and it was farther away and I got the same spiel. “That’s not for you. Only new houses on street. You use trash around corner. That for you.” Ok, ok. I get it. No explanations, no excuses. I get it. I have to walk three blocks in the freezing cold in the wee hours of the morning and not use the trash that’s three feet from my driveway, because my foreign trash might touch the people in the new houses’ trash.

We had a similar experience with Japanese neighbors soon after we moved in. We would let the Mini sit in the driveway to get warm for about five minutes before driving off. And we got another phone call from the neighbors to the landlord to the agent…that if we didn’t get our car fixed (it was too loud and smelly) that they would have to take “action.” Which means that they would go to housing and get us kicked out. Like they couldn’t just say, “I’m sorry, it’s very loud…perhaps you could refrain from allowing your car to idle in the driveway?” There was no first warning or request it was just if you don’t stop we’ll report you to the military, and they’ll come and make you behave. Believe me, before I was terrified of not being liked by the neighbors. Now even I’m afraid of leaving the car running for too long in the driveway after I’ve pulled in and parked. I always turn it off the minute I hit park. There’s no time to listen to the end of a song or take off my seatbelt. In. Park. Off. I’m also afraid of leaving our porch light on. We might bother someone with our light, and I get really annoyed if D.J. happens to leave it on after he comes in from grilling outside. I swoop in like a light nazi and berate him. “Why is this ON? You’re not outside. It doesn’t need to be on!”

I love Japan most of the time, but it’s times like this that I can only think…soon we’ll be back home in the states. Because at least when things annoy me, they at least make some sense to me. But then it gets me even more worked up because really…where is home, anyway? After all this travel and living abroad, I feel very separate and different from most Americans. And I’m separate and different from most military and from most Japanese and Spanish and Germans and Australians and Brits…and do I even have a home anymore? So (from my last post) I can communicate with just about anyone, but the question remains, do I really fit in anywhere anymore?