Leaf Blowers--Part II

Where Are My Ear Plugs?


I've had a significant revelation this week.

In the big picture of things, apparently I really don’t matter.

Neither does Pat.

You see, for the past almost three years that we’ve lived here in paradise, we’ve been assaulted almost daily with the sounds of …

get ready…

LAWN EQUIPMENT.

I swear, if one of our own people isn’t standing under my window with a hedge trimmer or lawn mower or weed eater or edger or leaf blower in his hand, then the condos on either side or the Mexicans working on the golf course that borders the other two sides of our property are clipping or trimming or pruning or chopping using something powered by a little screaming gasoline engine.

FIVE &%$#@* DAYS A WEEK.

Isn’t there something wrong with this picture?

After all, we’re part of a few dozen people that actually LIVE here in one of the 48 condo units 365 days a year (vacation days excluded.)

Instead of listening to the sounds of traffic on I-285 in Atlanta, now I’m condemned to attending a Homelight convention every daylight minute of every day of every year--rain or shine.

It has finally occurred to me that our Executive Board and property management company runs things based on the needs not of the full time residents, but rather it accommodates people that are either here on weekends and holidays else rent their property to TOTAL STRANGERS that drive into our parking lots to enjoy the landscaping and peace & quiet we rarely enjoy.

Of course most of the members of our Board are closer to age 100 than they are to age 50, so you could set off a two megaton nuclear blast on their back patio and all they would feel is the ground shake a little--they can't actually HEAR the goings-on on the property.

If I‘m not careful, I swear that I’m going to be convicted of murder by hedge clipper if I have to keep listening to the whine and smell of two cycle engines every waking minute.

Please, give it a rest already.

And regarding the leaf blower thing, why not take the time to tap on my door and give me the opportunity to move my car or truck before you create a dust storm over and around my freshly washed vehicle?

Right now my Suburban looks like it hasn’t been washed in three years because, in spite of resting comfortably in our covered carport, the idiot yard guys insist on assaulting it weekly with their leaf blowers. I haven’t driven it in the rain since I last washed it, but the sticky salt air down here grabs every bit of dust and attaches it to the paint finish, and it’s FILTHY as a result of our lawn maintenance efforts.

If they keep it up, I'm gonna steal their sparkplugs...