Rumble in the 'Hood

Guess what little gem came in the mail today? It’s an invitation to our homeowner’s association annual meeting. Do you think a young couple with no kids, who is bottom of the food chain, mind you, in this neighborhood will be attending? You bet your ass I am. To be honest, I have a few bones to pick with the association. It. Is. On.

First point: The “Welcome to the Neighborhood… Not.” Incident
Was that a “not” joke? Yes. Yes, it was, but it’s the only way I can explain it. So, when we bought our first home, I actually expected to meet my neighbors right away – they would all bring fresh baked goods the day after we moved in, right? I mean, that’s what happens on Desperate Housewives. I also thought that we might receive some kind of a welcome into the neighborhood from the homeowner’s association. I mean we do send them hundreds of dollars a year. I’ll be honest. Call me presumptuous, but I fully expected some kind of welcome basket. We got nothing. In fact, the first correspondence we had from the HOA leads me to my second point.

Second point: The “Shrub” Incident
We hadn’t been in our new home more than two weeks when we finally received word from the HOA in the form of a postcard. A postcard from those bishes to notify us that we had a stray branch on a shrub and that we’d be fined if it wasn’t taken care. Seriously? We had JUST bought our first lawn mower, so we didn’t even have hedge clippers. Poor hubby had to go out there with scissors to snip the stray branch. Welcome, indeed.

Third point: The “Pool Code” Incident
So, you’re probably wondering why we moved into a neighborhood with a HOA. One word: pool. Greg didn’t want any home with a pool so the neighborhood pool was my option, which comes with a HOA. With my welcome basket, I thought they’d send a cute card with the pool gate code on it, but nothing. In fact, the first time I went, I head to make a little kid let me in. On another occasion, I actually tried to reach through the gate to unlock it to let myself. I totally got caught red-handed by a neighbor (a suburban low point for me), but he totally believed me when I nervously explained I lived in the ‘hood, but had forgot the code. He gave the code to me and I totally branded it on my arm (and by that, I mean saved it in my phone).

Flash-forward to the HOA meeting: I can already picture myself walking into that elementary school gymnasium, guns a-blazing (um, not real guns), with maybe a light breeze that will kick up as I swing the door open, with the Rocky theme song playing on a stereo that my crazy neighbor Linda is holding above her head. I would give that HOA board a piece of my mind. Pretty amazing daydream, right? Well, I’ll be sure to report back!