I didn’t mind having a brown door. As long as it did its job and kept random people from wandering into my home and browsing through my stuff, I didn’t really care what color it was. Brown or not, it is a good door.
But the HOA here in my complex says differently. They say it needs to be red. According to them, red is the perfect color for my door. (Actually, purple would be the perfect color for my door. Or anything else, I think.) Now, have nothing against red. Red is a perfectly fine color. But, I really don’t want to spend my time painting my door red. (Is that a song?) I have things to do. Like obsess about crocheted blankets on British TV.
Not to worry! they said. We’ll send somebody over to your place and paint it for you. This must be what I pay dues for. I dutifully made an appointment. It was on a weekday, of course, so I got an afternoon free. Score one for me.
3:00 p.m. Time for The People’s Court. The painting guy is not here. I called yesterday to confirm this was happening.
Not to worry! they said. We’ll send somebody over to your place and paint it for you. This must be what I pay dues for. I dutifully made an appointment. It was on a weekday, of course, so I got an afternoon free. Score one for me.
3:00 p.m. Time for The People’s Court. The painting guy is not here. I called yesterday to confirm this was happening.
3:30 No sign yet. I call the office. “He’ll be there in five minutes,” I’m told. Within two minutes, he’s here.
3:45 He is done. I have a red door. I am now sitting around at home, watching paint dry.
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Random pictures of crystal skulls.
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Random pictures of crystal skulls.
Hamsters love watermelon.
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