Welcome to the Jungle
The Suncrest Meadows HOA meets on the first Thursday of every month, which is a shame, because Thursday used to be my favorite day. It’s the perfect blend of “almost Friday” optimism and “still enough time to avoid doing laundry.” But ever since moving here, Thursdays have become the equivalent of a dental cleaning - except instead of a hygienist, it’s Carl from Lot 18 explaining the dangers of improperly coiled garden hoses.
The meeting starts promptly at 6:00 p.m., which in HOA terms means that by 6:07, the president, Linda, is already rapping her gavel like she’s auditioning for a courtroom drama. Linda lives three houses down from me and has perfected the art of dressing like she’s attending a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a very small, very unimportant municipal building. Tonight, she’s in a lavender blazer that says authority, paired with a smile that says I will ruin you over fence height violations.
The first ten minutes are always the same. Attendance roll, approval of last month’s minutes, and a solemn reminder that “Our neighborhood’s curb appeal is our shared responsibility.” Translation: We see you, Dave, and your lawn is a disgrace.
The crowd tonight is a greatest-hits lineup of Suncrest’s most opinionated residents. There’s Carl, naturally, wearing a fishing vest filled with pens. Susan from Lot 12, who once tried to get squirrels banned from the subdivision. And, of course, Jeff and Karen - the self-appointed “watchdogs” of street parking - perched together like vultures waiting for someone to leave a tire an inch over the curb.
The first item on the agenda: mailbox paint. Apparently, the HOA has decided that “Antique White” is too creamy and is proposing a switch to “Snowbound,” which is, as far as I can tell, also white. The debate that follows could rival a Senate filibuster. Jeff insists “Snowbound” will clash with the vinyl siding. Karen argues “Antique White” is more “heritage.” I resist the urge to point out that our entire neighborhood was built in 2008, and the only heritage here is whatever came free with the Home Depot bulk order.
While Linda nods gravely and takes notes like she’s documenting a war crime, I scan the room. The air is thick with cheap coffee and cheaper grudges. And somewhere deep down, I know - this is only the warm-up act.
Because on the bottom of tonight’s agenda, scrawled in all caps, is the real reason we’re all here: Unauthorized Tulip Planting.
And if history has taught me anything, it’s that nothing good happens after the word “unauthorized.”