We really do live in a great city. Ok, so the place hasn’t met a tax hike or millage they didn’t love. The number of ordinances and rules is mind boggling. Regardless of my best efforts at being a precinct delegate and knocking doors, we turn in the worst results for the country’s best congressman. But that’s the rest of the city. The people on my street are awesome. They think we’re nuts, shake their heads in wonder, but let us be.
They send their kids to vandalize our home, they bring us drinks when things are looking bad, they let us borrow their ovens to bake bread. They get it.
Now the people who don’t live on our street? Seriously. Those people must have too much time on their hands.
They call the city to complain when our fully fenced in back yard grows beyond 6 inches, in the middle of construction. (Solution: Round-Up and Weedwacker. What lawn?)
They call the city to complain when our fence has a hole and their dog is getting out. Say what?
And they call when we have a porta-potty on our property. Sigh.
What can you do when walk-bys complain to government about a government-mandated porta-potty?
Meanwhile, no one has legitimately complained about our illegally placed Airstream with the hacked sewer and electrical hook-up. People are funny.
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