Recently, I was naively “forced” (along with 14 others…. OUT OF 378.) into attending our annual Homeowners Association meeting. I’ll spare you the riveting details, but just know that I would have rather been at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. At least I could’ve gathered some recipe ideas. I digress.
So we pay $200/month for 5 people to send letters to us about an increase for this or that, yet as Practical Patty pointed out, 10K is missing from the itemized line items dating back to 2012. OH, the DRAMA!!! Logical Larry mentioned that it was irrelevant to the cost of pool chemicals & so on & so forth. Busy Betty is frustrated with people “not appropriately keeping their bushes trimmed”. (Verbatim.) So Logical Larry chimes in & wants to dissect the word “appropriate”. I KNOW- you’re on the edge of your seat. As was I. But that’s because I was falling asleep & dreaming of all the more enjoyable things I could have been doing. Like cleaning toilets, or picking up trash on the side of the road. Two full hours later, I was released from the prison of people who have too much time on their hands.
Cut to the next morning. I had about 11 hours worth of errands to run & while I can usually fall asleep after drinking a pot of coffee, today I knew I had about 5 hours to accomplish the aforementioned tasks, cue the Red Bull. Someone MUST have spiked it. (And whomever this wonderful soul is, please present yourself, as I would like to personally Thank You. Lord knows I can’t afford whatever high-end drugs you slipped into my already delicious beverage.)
After wasting loads of precious time at the Secretary of State, a friend asked me why I hadn’t just brought my machete. Which got my thinkin’……. WHY DIDN’T I? Ah yes, prison. Annnnywho, I managed to dash around prissy soccer moms in the wine isle, avoid ramming my cart into Millennials perusing the tofu items, not throat-punch one single Hipster in the organic section & escape Meijer, relatively unscathed.
I raced home to unload my refrigerated items. Only to pull into my driveway greeted with this catastrophe.
Which I can only imagine was caused by a rabid squirrel, or WORSE, those MEDDLING KIDS!
But in reality, it was probably BUSY BETTY & her BUSH obsession!!!! Well BETTY, have I GOT NEWS FOR YOU. I’m all jacked up on Red Bull & resentments. After running up the stairs, (which reminded me to put on a sports bra) I (of course) grabbed a cigarette & started to plot my revenge. But with my ADD, in between throwing on a sports bra & tossing my salad (hehehe) into the fridge, I ended up chain-smoking all the way to the gym, where I hopped on the stationary bike & fired off some strongly worded emails to the HOA. Immediately regretful of this impulsive decision, I ferociously tried to UNSEND, UNSEND, ABORT MISSION!!!! Luckily, I realized I had sent them from Wesley’s email account, so he would suffer the wrath of President Paul & VP Vince.
I finally snap back to reality & focus of my original task at hand. Cutting my nose off to spite my face. Brain going 7,000mph, starts to focus on revenge. I’ll SHOW THEM! I went a weeeeeee bit of a rampage. I’m yankin’ out weeds at the speed of light, chain-smokin’, swearing at the dirt & all the while, cursing Betty AND her bush!
(**Note- I know you’re thinking, “Heather, I thought you were cripple & barely able to walk?!?” While this is true MOST days, not TODAY!!!! I had just received my spinal epidural injections & was feeling like Wonder Woman. It was probably that the fentanyl had yet to wear off & the copious amount of steroids in my system, but I was set on being the Barry Bonds of gardening!)
I’ve got earbuds in, which aren’t even plugged into anything, just using them as a deterrent, when some random neighbor comes up behind me & just stands there smiling. (Creepy factor- level 10.)
“HI!”, she blurts out. As I over-dramatically rip the silent earbuds out, to show my distain for actually having to speak with someone, I respond, “Probably a little bit. How can I help you?” She kindly informed me of what a nice job I was doing on my “garden”, complimenting the high rate of speed of which I was violently hacking down my “weeds” (which to me, was anything that was sprouting out of the ground above the 74 pounds of mulch we had smothered the “garden area” with), & then just stood there & pointed at me. We were at an impasse. I had zero idea of how to respond. She just kept pointing. Finally, I glace down & notice that my right breasticle was hanging out. In my defense, I was wearing a flowy tank top & an obviously not-so-supportive sports bra…. (Thanks Victoria’s Secret.) So I’m standing there with a cigarette hangin’ outta my mouth, a nipple-wagon hangin’ outta my shirt & runnin’ reeeeeal low on patience. “So is that all?” I ask while scooping the escapee back into it’s holster. She nodded & smiled, I did the same & got back to my rebellious weeds.
After quite a while of plowing down the weeds, the Red Bull, fentanyl & ‘roids started to wear out. I was losing steam quickly. So I just kinda shrugged & though, “Well, this is prolly as good as it’s gonna get. ” And just like that, I was over it. My lone sunflower was gonna have to be the beacon of light for all those other weedy-ass gardens in the subdivision. My man says my garden patch looks like a botanist’s equivalent of a meth head, but like I said, the give-a-damn juice wore off, so acceptance it is. 😊
**Pro tip: The sidewalks are “community property”, so did I sweep my lawn onto the sidewalk? You bet’cher sweet ass I did!
TA-DAAAA!!!! It’s she a beaut?
Wes admiring the garden. And by “garden”, I mean, single, methy sunflower stalk.
*** Some names, places, & actual events may have been changed to protect the anonymity of the HOA assholes. 😊