could see the top portion of my wall. She described it in the letter as an eyesore. Her solution was simple. I had 30 days to remove the structure and replace it with ornamental stone that met HOA design guidelines. If I failed to comply, the association would begin issuing daily fines of $200 until the issue was resolved.
I read the letter twice. Then I leaned back in my chair and laughed. Not because it was funny exactly, but because sometimes when something is that ridiculous, laughter is the only reasonable response. Still, I figured there had to be some misunderstanding. So that evening, I walked down the slope and knocked on Vanessa’s door.
She answered, wearing yoga clothes and holding a glass of sparkling water, the sunset reflecting off the perfectly smooth surface of her new pool behind her. “Yes,” she said. I held up the letter. “Hey, Vanessa, I just got this in the mail. thought maybe we should talk about it. Her expression didn’t change.
“Oh, good,” she said calmly. “I was hoping you’d come by, and that’s when I realized something important. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was the beginning of a fight.” Vanessa stepped aside and motioned for me to come out to the back patio. Now, I’ll admit, the pool was impressive. A long, narrow infinity edge that looked like it just poured straight into the trees below.
The tile was this deep, dark blue, the kind you see in fancy resorts. and the water reflected the sky like a mirror. And right at the far end, if you looked up the slope, you could see the top edge of my railroad tie wall, about 2 feet of it. Vanessa noticed me looking. “You see what I mean?” she said, sipping her drink. I shrugged.
