It’s winter. Even in central Virginia, it is winter. I’m looking out my window onto my front yard, and I see…mostly dormant grass with a scattering of autumn leaves. When I move across and look out the window onto my backyard, I see…autumn leaves amidst a smattering of dormant grass. If I was a stranger, a guest of myself as host, who was on his first visit ever to Hacienda de Pathkeeper, I could draw three concurrent conclusions from my observations:

• Most of the trees on my host’s property are in his back yard
• My host has not raked up or blown out the leaves that fell this autumn
• My host is very, very lazy

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I work hard; I’d fallen for the pitch that it’s better to own your home than to rent or lease one. I remember my father telling me: “A man’s home is his castle!” (I might have forgotten that, immediately after telling you this, he answered “Yes, Dear!” as he lumbered off to perform the next task on his HoneyDo list.)

Let’s fast-forward more than a few years…

Here I sit, looking out my window onto my suburban demesne. It’s so comforting, watching…the grass die.

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A HOA meeting, or a Witch Trial

Most developments in which we buy or have bought homes are inflicted with a homeowners association, of which there are two types: voluntary and involuntary. Wikipedia defines the second type, in regards to which I have some things to say, thus:

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