“Time to power wash the devil out of you!” — My Thoughts On HOAs

I wish I could hire a goose whisperer.

Last summer The Husband, The Cat, and I moved to a new house. It is fabulous. We got a sweet deal on a brand new build. It’s got square footage for days. The Cat has an entire floor (the basement) all to herself with a custom kitty door installed by The Husband so she can let herself in and out. I have a laundry room ON THE SECOND FLOOR that is directly across from the master bedroom. This is one epic house, y’all.

The neighorhood, however, does have a problem. What is the problem, you ask? It has a homeowner’s association.

Maybe homeowner’s associations are good for something. But my previous experience with them at my condo left a bad taste in my mouth. It seemed like their sole purpose was to send out their army of ninjas to stealthily evaluate the perceived flaws of my property, then send out letters detailing my flaws. Said letters contained threats of fines and further harassment by the ninjas if I didn’t comply within their time frame.

Now, some of their grievances were legit, I suppose. Peeling paint does look tacky. But my first letter of complaint informed me that I had committed the unpardonable sin of leaving my Christmas lights up too long.

The horror. The horror. (The sarcasm.)

And some of their complaints were just too convenient. One letter told me I needed to power wash my condo. Okay, fine, it could use a bath. THE NEXT DAY after the letter was received I got a flier stuffed in my door advertising a HOA approved power washing company. Coincidence? I think not.

I was ridiculously happy to leave that HOA behind. Thankfully, so far our new HOA has been much more chill. They still take our money and tell us what to do, but they don’t take as much money. And there have been no signs of ninjas. The closest thing to the Angry Ninja Complaint Letter was a cutesy postcard inviting us to a community cleanup of the neighborhood playground and suggesting that hey it might be kinda cool if we all mowed our lawns before that date, but if not no worries.

Even though this HOA is leaps and bounds better than the last one, it still annoys me that I’m forced to join and pay money to a mysterious entity that bosses me around. So if any of the HOA’s special ops ninjas are reading this, here is my list of things I would like the HOA to do for me:

• Hire a goose whisperer. We have an almost lovely pond in the middle of the pond. I say “almost lovely” because no one can get anywhere near it. The pond and its surrounding trail are guarded by Satan’s winged minions, better known as geese. They honk. They bite. And worst of all, they poop. Everywhere. All the time. I think they sold their souls to the devil for the ability to fire off endless rounds of excrement. Why anyone would want to sign up for eternal damnation just for that ability is beyond me, but it’s the only plausible explanation I can think of. POOP FOR DAYS, y’all! It’s everywhere! I would make it rain all sorts of Benjamins — okay, maybe not Benjamins, but at the very least a hearty supply of Washingtons with perhaps the occasional Lincoln thrown in there — on any HOA ninja who could get those geese outta there.
• Have a power washer on retainer. After the demonic geese have been exorcised and relocated, there will still be much clean up to do. Enter The Power Washer. I don’t just want him to wield the tool. I need him to have a costume and a backstory and mysterious theme music that plays when he walks into town. He’ll show up, survey the scene with his soulful eyes hidden behind his Lone Ranger style mask, and then power wash that goose poop straight to hell where it belongs. “My work here is done,” he’ll say in a gruff but sad voice, as he is still mourning the loss of his beloved ferret who was tragically killed when he was run over by a galloping herd of radioactive anthropomorphic dustbunnies. Or something. I’m not good at superhero backstories. At any rate, he’s brooding. He’s mysterious. And when I whisper his name into the sky, he’s available to come power wash my house.
• Why stop at The Power Washer? Those special ops HOA ninjas would be fired from reporting on my sins. But I hate to think of anyone being out of work. So the HOA will re-hire them as a special ops cleaning task force. Picture it. You’ve just hosted a dinner party. Dishes are piled up in the sink. The kitchen floors are a mess. The trash cans are full. You’re exhausted. You know you’ve gotta clean up. But you’re just not up to it.

ENTER THE NINJAS.

They clean with haste and precision, channeling all the rage that used to be directed at finding fault with you into those damned dishes. They too are tired and want to get to home, so they get the job done fast. And poof! They throw down a lemon scented smoke bomb to cover their exit AND make your house smell amazing.

So those are some of the things I’d like to see in a HOA. Did I miss anything? Tell me about your dream homeowner’s association in the comments. I’ll read them later. I just got done making dinner and I’m exhausted. Time to summon the ninjas.