Getting Fixed and Blurting


May  2011*

The dog ran to the door and the cat crawled under the sink as soon as doorbell rang. I picked up the dog and answered the door.

“Ma’am, we’re here to examine your house for the HOA lawsuit,” said a man wearing a striped shirt, dockers and Nike shoes.

At this point I guess I should fill you in on the history; a dangerous thing for me to do, because when I discuss the situation I become irate – no, I go nuts. I warn you now, while telling you this there is a strong possibility that I may begin typing in all caps, SHOUT at the computer, shake uncontrollably, rip off my clothes and run through the neighborhood until someone calls the police and I’m hauled away by Life Flight in a straight jacket. So, I will keep it short.

We’ve lived in our house for almost 9 years. Two years ago, the homeowners association decided to sue the builder. Why? There are companies that make money by “inspecting” buildings to find something wrong.  BUT, they only do it to shopping centers or homeowners associations because THAT’S WHERE THE MONEY IS. In our case they decided that some screws or nails in some flashing underneath the siding and other external building materials were inserted 1/4 inch off from the manufacturer’s recommendation. In my opinion, they could find something wrong with any house or building they inspected — I even asked them that at an HOA meeting but they did not answer.

OK, back to the story. So, the man at the door and his three assistants standing behind him were going to tear off our home some siding and rock covering then photograph rot or whatever it was they conspired to find.

View of the front door and fern pot from the porch support post.

“I’m Bill from Metropolitan Inspection, we’re here to gather evidence for the lawsuit.” Bill was the PERFECT name for him. Our fees had gone up so much they were higher than our property taxes. In fact, our HOA fees PLUS our property taxes were more than our mortgage. I could lease a luxury car with the money we spend on HOA fees.

“OK,” I said shaking with rage. Then something occurred to me. “Are you going to be working on the porch?”

“What do you mean?” said Bill.

“Well, see that pot of ferns?” He nodded. I continued, “Our pet slug lives in there. I don’t want it disturbed.”

His eyes widened. The men behind him glanced at each other, stepped backwards and looked down. After a minute, Bill looked at his clipboard then back up at me. “We don’t need to work under the porch, Ma’am. Just on the supports over there.”  He pointed to posts supporting the porch roof.

I took a breath, “OK. Just don’t bother my slug!”


What the Slug Says!

Pinkies were everywhere today.  I counted four not including the two of mine. Their bottom tentacles caused the ground to shake as their top tentacles pounded on my pinkies’ rock.  I wish they would just go away.

*Note to readers: We’re catching up on the pet slug history. When we reach current time we’ll post a daily slug pot report – read on — it gets better. )


Leave a Comment

Filed under Background

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

3 × = eighteen

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>