“You and your birds.” The wife rolled her eyes. “I’d say she did us a favour. I’m fed up of wiping their droppings from the windshield.”
I’d been animatedly nodding my head while listening to the conversation, a growing smirk appearing as I reasoned this was all some kind of joke that I didn’t fully understand. I awaited the punchline; however, it never came. “Are you being serious?” Neither of their expressions changed. “A birdhouse?” I looked between the two of them, but still, none of the expected laughter arrived. “Hundreds of dollars? You’re…you’re being serious?”
“Deadly,” the husband said. “She’s a no-good busy-body that lives for misery.”
“Oh, come on,” the wife said. “She’s just a lonely woman with nothing better to do.”
“Is she really that much of a problem?” I asked apprehensively.
“Noooo,” the wife said with a flap of her hand. “My husband is just being overly dramatic.”
I dipped my head, still intrigued by his spluttering, my curious expression directed towards the husband this time. “Can they…can they actually fine you for something like that? For a birdhouse? I wouldn’t think they’d have the authority.” I glanced quickly around the street and noted that most of the front yards were absent of all of the ideas I’d had for my own. They were uniform in their decoration, as if they were adhering to some unwritten rule of abandoning all independent thought and expression.
“Apparently so,” he said in an annoyed voice. “We signed a load of something or other when we got this place and evidently we can’t do shit with our own property unless the great dictator approves. I even ran it by my lawyer friend and he said to just avoid breaking the terms and don’t draw her attention because these Homeowner things are a minefield. There’s late fees and all sorts she can dish out on us.” He sighed in resignation. “We were so excited to have our own place that we overlooked the small print.”
“But…a birdhouse?” I looked between the two of them, startled and confused. “What’s wrong with a birdhouse? That seems so petty.” I looked at the wife aghast. “Everyone likes birds, don’t they?”
“You’re telling me,” the husband said. “Welcome to Woodville.”
Just listening to that was enough to make me gulp. I’d been so excited about getting my own place, and after having spent countless hours exhausting myself through the credit and deed agreements, that I’d just brushed over the Homeowner Association literature when it had been passed my way. I mean, it was a good thing, wasn’t it? They had security to stop thieves coming into the community, and everything was so squeaky clean. I mean, when I’d first viewed the property, the seller had bragged about how there was no dog droppings on the sidewalk, because the Homeowner Association would fine anyone whose dog soiled. As a result, the streets were unblighted by doggy doo. What could possibly be bad about that? For a small fee every month, we got to have someone to look after the good of the neighbourhood. That’s what I’d wanted after my apartment building had fallen to ruin. I didn’t want to be stepping over someone else’s trash every day.
“Stop scaring her,” the wife teased, before offering me a warm smile. “She’s just one of those nosey ladies. You know the sort? Like those soccer moms that are always barking at their kids from the touchline. You just have to know how to deal with her is all.” She nodded her head towards her husband. “She’s been a lot nicer since we’ve had her around for dinner a few times, and especially since hubby changed the flat on her car.”
“Under much duress,” he said with a sigh, “while being told I was doing it wrong the whole time.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I didn’t even get a thank you from her afterwards.”
I let out an awkward chuckle. “Is it bad that I’m already terrified of her? She sounds unbearable.”
“Look what you’ve done,” the wife said while pinching her husband’s arm. “You’ve gone and petrified the poor girl.”
“Just telling her how things are.” He put on an obviously fake smile. “This is a nice community and most people are lovely, but there’s just one bad apple is all.”
With that, the wife gave a final roll of her eyes, and they continued removing all of the groceries from the back of the SUV. I made my way back inside, many thoughts swirling around my head. I even took a quick look over all the papers I’d signed, but could make no sense of it. Surely, they were exaggerating. They sounded all jokey, yet, there was a lingering sense of dread creeping up on me. What if this Carol was actually going to be a pain in my ass?
Over the next few days, I gradually started getting really settled into my new place. With the help of my mother, I picked out a load of furniture from IKEA and I’d even taken a few days off work so that I could assemble it all and have my house starting to look more like a home. It was tiring work, but the end result was definitely worth it, and by the weekend, I was even able to move onto the garden and begin giving it my own personal spin. Despite the concerns of my neighbours, I pushed on, figuring they were making a mountain out of a molehill, and if this Carol did rear her head, I’d simply explain that I was just giving my yard a bit of personality. I mean, no one wanted to live in a boring abode, did they? It would bring a real feeling of spirit to have flowers, garden decorations and the like, wouldn’t it?
When I’d bought the home, I’d stopped outside the show house and marvelled at how wonderful the garden was. There were so many flowers and trees, along with various ornaments that really made the home pop. There was even a pond with fish. I wanted a similar, welcoming vision for my own yard, and I got down and dirty, digging up plots over the weekend so that I could lay a load of flowers that would hopefully bloom by the spring.
What I found rather bizarre though, was on a few occasions, while I was down and planting various bulbs and seeds, a few of my new neighbours passed by and struck up conversations. It was nice to get to know everyone, however, quite concerning was the repeated theme being raised about that woman called Carol. I heard a lot about Carol that weekend, with some odd questions, like whether I’d checked with Carol before starting work on my yard, or if I didn’t think I was going to have a problem with Carol? I brushed the questions away, as after all, I was planting a few flowers, not assembling a national park. Sure, my choice of garden wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes but it was my garden, so frankly, I didn’t care what anyone else thought. This Carol could stick her nose in, if she wanted, and I’d be polite in response. Polite, but most definitely firm that I’d paid for this place, and therefore, I would do whatever I liked.
Once I’d planted all of the flowery arrangements that I wanted, I moved onto some of the garden furniture, having a table and chairs delivered as well as a BBQ and a load of coal. My plan had always been to throw a kind of housewarming party, where I’d invite some family, friends and colleagues from work. I’d envisioned a cook-out in the garden where we could all relax and I could play host, while everyone celebrated this important step in my life.
Will there a part 2?