The winds of change they are a blowin’ … down my back fence. Which therefore set into motion a flurry of events that to this day continues to baffle and bewilder my fragile and exceptionally simple brain. Lemme explain.
During our most recent STORMWATCH 2009, the tan and spoiled denizens of Southern California had the pleasure of enjoying a little bit of weather. A dash of wind and a pinch of precipitation to wash away the sins of our indulgence and blithe expectations of perfect weather that we enjoy daily.
About 10 minutes before I’m set to leave for work, I notice that my back fence seems to enjoy the weather so much that it’s dancing back and forth, twisting at the will of its windy partner. At which point I do the homeownerly thing and brace the fence with boards I find lying about in my garage. Where did I get the boards you ask? Not important to the story, pay attention.
A couple of wistful to and fro’s, and my back fence decides to belly flop backwards toward the street. I watch in mock TV horror — mouth agape as I simultaneously drop a long, drawn out F bomb in front of my not-yet-2-year-old daughter. She looks up at me with a disapproving smirk that I’m afraid I’ll see for the rest of my life.
Then I’m forced to engage in a roundabout jousting of insurance company, HOA and hungry holiday contractors who all want to royally screw me for the holidays. Here’s how it breaks down.
So I called USAA and let them know that the almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster has since decided that I should have a better view of Hope Elementary school by flattening my back fence. They told me to get off my lazy arse and get a few quotes to fix my fence. Apparently, homeowners insurance does work! Minus a painful kick-to-the-groin deductible, that is.
The next step is calling every fence company in the local vicinity to come out and pretend like I’m going to pay them to fix my fence. I feel they all know I’m only courting one fence fixer, and they each do the minimum amount of work to produce a quote. Eff you, customer service!
HOA (Hypocritically Objectionable Assheads):
I’ve been succinctly clear about my feelings toward Homeowners Associations. In my obviously one-sided opinion, they’re all scum of the earth lowlifes who take money to do nothing positive for a community. I appreciate that they don’t let my neighbors paint their house orange with purple trim but do they really need authoritative control over my choice to put a white vinyl fence in my backyard as opposed to a wood fence? How exactly does that dilemma fall to a group of people that don’t live in my neighborhood? If it were my choice, I’d have every single person employed by an HOA viciously fired and then forced to get a real job and stop leeching off of people who own a home or condo. And yes, I’ll take my soapbox with me when I go.
As much as I’d like to say there’s a conclusion to this sad windy affair, alas, there is not. I’m still waiting on the five different fencing companies to share their property bordering insights with me and my homeowners insurance. Then I have to beg and plead with my worthless HOA for permission to fix my fence the way I want to.
Hopefully then I can submit said paperwork to my insurance company and then, finally, I can have a back fence up again. Just in time for next winter’s storm.
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries