A small crew collects garbage in my street on Mondays and Thursdays. It may be these are garbage days for the whole town. The crew operates a tiny garbage truck that was specially designed for narrow Motovun streets. Here and there along the street, there are large plastic bins with wheels and covers. Three such bins are behind a corner a few houses above mine, and there are two a few houses below. Whichever way I go, I am likely to be seen by one of my neighbors. Today I noticed something funny about garbage. Whenever I am taking out an empty champagne bottle, I make sure no-one catches a glimpse of me. Today I took out three bottles of the heavenly brew, and thus I was especially careful. I cautiously looked up and down the street before I ventured out. Which is perhaps why I noticed there was something odd about my behavior. And why would I be so concerned about my neighbors spying so many champagne bottles? A healthy survival instinct, I bet.

Addendum (January 24, 2017)

This piece entices a smile and a frown, and in that order. The smile goes all the way back, when the piece was written. Being cautious about the disposal of empty champagne bottles made quite a bit of sense some fourteen years ago. As witnessed by all the religious books of old, envy is far from a minor blemish characteristic of the human species. But the frown goes to the stark present, when there are hardly any neighbors left around my house. Nearly all the houses are for rent at this time. The first few months of the year are the pits, for Motovun is nigh deserted out of the tourist season. One way or another, empty champagne bottles are the least of my problems nowadays. As for the survival instinct, I am one of the last survivors in my part of the hilltown. In so many years, I may well be the only survivor around. Healthy or not, the instinct comes with a blemish all its own.