Wednesday, November 05, 2014

The Joys of Suburban Life

So it's mid-morning and I'm working from home, feeling lousy because of a virus or something, and there's a knock on the door. I run up the stairs from the basement, huffing and puffing all the way, open the door, thinking/hoping it's a magical package from FedEx or Amazon or NewEgg which I never ordered, but instead there's this nicely dressed guy with a big smile on his face and a business card held in his hand.

Says he's the "Compliance Officer". The guy in charge of going around the neighborhood and making sure our grass is the right height and our cars are parked in the right place and our houses aren't falling into disrepair. And I always wondered what all those Association fees were paying for.

When I heard "Compliance", I thought he was going to talk about my car, the one I'm still working on, the one that still doesn't have a plate because it's not registered. But - no. He wants to talk about my trash bin. 

It's been sitting outside, on the side of the house, since Friday when the trash was picked up. It's empty, not heaped high with refuse. It's just sitting there, dark brown and horrifying, reminding the neighbors that occasionally, we throw out garbage.

It's sitting there because there's no room for it in the garage. Because I'm trying to rearrange the contents of the garage in order to find the room to move the cars inside. Which is going to require some major overhaul of the basic structure of the third bay (my shop!).

I should feel lucky to have a third bay to put my car in. Instead, I'm feeling put-upon because this yahoo is coming to my front door complaining that my empty brown trash bin is sitting outside rather than inside my garage where it belongs.

A couple years ago, the City put a warning sticker on my car (yes, it's been under repair for a long time now!) because it was sitting in my driveway, not hurting anyone, but also not moving. Apparently, there's a law against non-moving cars in driveways. That infuriated me. The car is not a rust-bucket. It is not dripping oil all over the place. It is not an eyesore.

It just doesn't move. Yet.

OK, so I can understand why the City doesn't want a bunch of derelict cars sitting in people's driveways. It reduces the value of the houses and the neighborhoods, and the last thing the government wants is to reduce the value of people's property! How else are they going to keep those property taxes so high? (Oddly enough, we found that property taxes actually don't go down when property values go down; for some reason, they only go up.)

But if the car doesn't look like a derelict, why do they care?

And why does the neighborhood care if my little brown trash bin is sitting on the side of my house?

I wonder if they're going to come after me for all those un-raked leaves.

                        *                         *

Parent-teacher conferences are always a wonderful time for those of us with wonderful children. We don't have any issues or complaints, so we usually sit around and chat with the teachers about non-stressful topics.

Except tonight.

Tonight, Deb was all excited because her boyfriend's father was going to be there, and she wanted us to meet him. Not for the sake of meeting him and getting to know him as a person; no, she wanted us to meet him so we would allow her to go over to her boyfriend's house to "hang out". So we would approve of him as a chaparone.

Unfortunately, even if he is a nice guy, it doesn't matter. He and his son live by themselves in an apartment. There are no other females in the place. That is an inappropriate situation for a young teenaged girl.

I met him. He is a nice guy.

But it doesn't matter. I will not approve of her "hanging out" at his house, unaccompanied by other women.

And maybe someday she'll understand.