Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Home sweet home owners' association

This weekend while my co-blogger, Ellie, was dancing and drinking (simultaneously!) at the Reducers show in OB, Connecticut,

and my other co-blogger, Jacquie, was cracking the whip at the Devo concert and microbrew festival at the Del Mar Race Track, in Del Mar, California,


I was, well, not.

Don’t get me wrong, I did drink some beers. I even managed to sneak out to sushi with Jacquie and our long-time good, good friend, Aline, who was in from Texas.

(They obviously wanted their photo to be included.)

But most of the time I was in moving hell.

I did survive, and managed to only forget two bags of clothes and all my daughters’ hair accessories at the old place, but it was brutal.

However, now that I’m in my new home (albeit surrounded by a cardboard city) my new challenge is accepting the rules and regulations that come along with belonging to a Home Owners Association.

That’s right, I now live (for the first time in my life) in a planned community, and the Association likes to keep this community looking a certain way. To ensure this, they’ve instituted plenty of bylaws, rules, etc.

I’ve vowed to myself that I will be nice and sweet and charming to everyone associated with the Association, so that I will get what I want get along well in my new environment.

Because I have a boyfriend that I suspect will be spending the night on a fairly regular basis, I needed to find out the rules governing overnight visitor parking.

So I called up the Association and very sweetly inquired about overnight parking. I listened with growing irritation patiently, as the woman told me that I need to call the office every time a visitor is going to park in a visitor parking spot overnight.

“Every time?” I asked incredulously sweetly.

“Yes. Every time.”

Here is my dumb ass, so-NOT-sticking-to-my-self-pledged-vow reply: “But you’re not my mother!”

And this is only week one.

10 comments:

Aunt Becky said...

Ah, Home Owners Associations. Better then Condo Owners Associations. I know that some apostrophes belong there, but I'm mystified as to where exactly they go.

NucMEd is Hot said...

Maybe you could write here a note like in school and start with "until further notice..." If that doesn't work, possible you could tell her you have two cars. This sounds like the walk of shame only it's a phone call. Sympathy my friend, sympathy.

Jacquie said...

Good idea to tell them you have 2 cars, that is completely absurd.

Guess I'll have to return the yard flags and greek statue I got you for a housewarming gift. Champagne it is!

Leslie said...

That is completely insane. Karen had a great idea with saying you own two cars.

Beth said...

Yes, a good idea indeed, but you see, I have a 2-car garage and you have to use your garage to park in, NOT, God forbid, the visitor parking.

I guess I could say I have 3 cars!?!

Deb on the Rocks said...

Start hanging Confederate flags and Christmas sculptures now. They may decide to attack those problems and leave the parking alone. It could work.

dana wyzard said...

Two choices here: Slap a big ol' NRA sticker in your front window or buy BF a bicycle to strap on his car; park the car a mile away, and bike it to your new digs.

OK. I got nuthin'.

Ellie said...

Oh dear. When we stay at our friends' place in Florida -- little trailer park right on a channel off the intercoastal waterway -- no guests are allowed to sleep in their rigs overnight. Of course they're not! We, of course, do. Which I hate because all the old fogies give us the stink eye as we bike around, from pool to ocean to trailer. My friend Kirk, though, says it gives them someting to talk about, it keeps them young. Which I guess is something. One thing it does do: makes you instantly famous.

(p.s. I love the Reducers photo you chose. They kept assuring me it was NOT gay porn night)

martyjoco said...

I'm with Deb - give them something to cry about, so they don't even notice hunky bf (yes, I remember the catamaran photos). But my suggestion is to find somewhere to tack up a verboten clothesline, and use it to dry your bathing suits and other delicate garments - you know, be GREEN and SENSIBLE. My understanding of these Associations is that they really HATE clotheslines.

Then again, it's only week one. You might find out that all your neighbors have boyfriends/girlfriends sleeping over every night, and the only one who doesn't is the woman in the office who answered the phone...

foolery said...

Oh, poor you. I moved this week, too -- and last week, and next week. It's gonna take a while, but we have the fridge and all the furniture in as of yesterday, so I guess we're in.

Maybe you could kill her with kindness? Home-baked muffins once a week? Bottle of champagne for no reason? Try to get her in your corner? No?

Okay, T.P. the office and be done with it.

Cheers!

Laurie @ Foolery