Our last house was on the water and, like many waterfront locations, it wasn’t in a neighborhood. This meant that you had million dollar homes intermingled with not-so-million-dollar-homes. People pretty much did what they wanted.
Where we live now is in a neighborhood … with a home owners’ association. It’s not our first neighborhood, nor our first home owners’ association. However, I had forgotten how (sigh) annoying they can be. We had lived here approximately one month before we got a slap-on-the-hand letter telling us that our trash can (tucked inconspicuously away on the side of the house) wasn’t inconspicuous enough and had to be moved in. Thankfully the kid had her own room and now we just store the trash cans in there. It does suck getting them downstairs each week, though. Whatever.
In general, I appreciate the idea of homeowners’ associations. I mean, I don’t want to live next door to a house with cars on cinder blocks in the front yard or an old couch on the back porch. So, I get the need for them because some people really do think that neon pink with green trim are the perfect colors for the outside of their house. I don’t want to live next door to those people either.
Apparently, we are those people — the people that some other people in this neighborhood don’t want to live next door to either. It’s confusing because we aren’t loud, we barely speak to anyone, and our dogs aren’t incessant barkers. However, this past week, we received another slap-on-the-hand letter from “the association” for…
[wait for it]
PARKING OUR CARS IN THE DRIVEWAY.
Not on the street.
Not on the grass.
Not on the sidewalk.
Not in the park’s parking lot.
Not in the yard on cinderblocks.
We are in violation because we are parking our two (used but nice) SUVs in our very own driveway.
And here I was worried about how to get the dogs to stop pooping on the back deck. Wait until they find out about that.