"Just like Quiet Riot did." (Ben Folds)
My neighborhood association frowns upon leaving your garage door open. I have to pay $$ to a neighborhood organization to enforce this kind of stuff. Hmm. I know, bitching about the neighborhood association is boring turf that's been trodden over for years and years. So has the whole "I've moved to the suburbs" diatribe. It's just that that I have started to join the numbing majority. My edge is becoming a hedge. My ascerbic wit will be replaced with anecdotes on fixing the lawn sprinkler or creative ways of disposing of dog poop. Lucky you, my three devout readers - this is a turning point for all of us. What was left of my risk-taking youth was decimated when I settled on a house with an attached garage and climate control. I think I'll have to start looking for a studio space to rent so I can keep all my dirt somewhere else. Power chords on the old Music Man amp have a different resonance in drywall and stucco.
Not that this is bad. I'm pleased that my big chores for the weekend are weedwacking the established St. Augustine in the backyard, not wetsanding the woodwork so I can paint over the peeling lead windows in my living room. Or reglazing the windows in the kitchen so the wind doesn't blow right through them. But I can't help but think I'm going to have to be more vigilant and focused if I'm going to have any texture living in the suburbs. Not that I need to instigate murders and stuff. Just make an effort to not slip into the monotony of cookie cutter stripmall homogeny.
Damn is it nice to have central air, though.