Doyce gets The Dreaded Knock On the Door in the Middle of the Night — or, more properly, The Dreaded Letter from the Homeowner’s Association in the Middle of the Summer. Jerks.
(Be patient with the page load — Doyce went picture-crazy yesterday.)
I keep waiting for one to arrive at our doorstep, too. And with equal lack of justification. When the Testerfolk have the most bedraggled house on the street, or the block, then the HOA can bitch. When water is plentiful and their lawn is an oasis of brown in a sea of green, then they can complain. And when they drop their “you must have X% of your yard as lawn, and no buffalo grass allowed,” then they can have the moral justification to suggest xeriscaping for any imagined slights on the local property values.
Until then, they can stifle.
And more news on who’s been snitching on Doyce and Jackie.
Hint: It’s almost certainly not the neighbors.