Y’all, don’t move into an HOA neighborhood if you can help it.

Sadly, those are easier to avoid than bad neighbors, because you really never know what you’re going to get until after you’ve moved in.

This man just wanted to recover from significant injuries in peace, but one neighbor fought him every step of the way.

Luckily, he found a way to pay her back in kind.

Check it out.

My house has to have a uniform appearance.. OK!

Just for clarifications sake, I had an accident which left me with a long road to recover personal mobility, at the time I lived in a 3rd story Victorian Era apartment, so I bought a ranch style house that was better suited to my recovery.

The house was 3 bed 2.5 bath detached garage, and by my opinion a rather ugly shade of yellow.

My GF at the time took the opportunity to move in with me, beyond family I had two regular visators, a personal trainer and an aide.

So for arguments sake, I can’t say that everything leading up to the MC was brought on by one single neighbor, but at this very least, if I had a fire she was pouring gasoline on it.

A Wilma is never a good sign.

I quite quickly met two of my neighbors upon moving in. The two couldn’t be any more opposite if they tried.

One neighbor AL, an old biker whom everyone should have a neighbor like at least once in thier lives.

And the other Wilma, nosey neighbor extraordinaire.

The rest of the neighborhood was a great blend of ages ethnicities, families and not. Just good people doing the best they could.

Things started off on the wrong foot…. Errr more appropriately wheel with Wilma.

Right off the bat she made it clear that she was the type of person to personally inspect anything you did to your house. And she did not mind telling you if something wasn’t up to her standards.

Which included my old 69 chevy truck, she clearly thought was ugly. (note throughout this story I was not able to drive it as I was mostly wheelchair bound, however I kept it registered and ready).

Though for some reason Wilma loved my GF and would talk at length to her… My GF did not share the same feelings for Wilma.

AL on the other hand, being a gear head quickly decided that I was his new best friend.

Looking back I’m glad AL was there, I’m not sure I ever told him, but he definitely had a way to pick me up on even my worst days. Anyways….

Things quickly got personal.

Problems mounted fairly quickly, I had hired a contractor to make some modifications to the house, and we were nearly constantly hit with inspections and stop work orders.

It was clear that someone was complaining, and more often than not Wilma seemed to be in the know about what the inspection was for.

I remember one day my contractor calling the police because she was constantly on site and butting in.

After that day she’d stand on the sidewalk watching everything.

Shortly after construction ended came rumors that I was cheating on my GF.

Nikki my aide, was by most accounts a very attractive woman, but I wasn’t her type… To be blunt, no guy was.

Then came rumors that I was having a gay affair… Tbf I don’t know who or what buff biff my trainer / physical therapy guy was into. I do know he enjoyed bending me into a pretzel and telling me that I wasn’t trying hard enough…. Nice guy outside that.

Of course the gay rumors spurred the local church fliers and occasional visits to attempt to “save me”

Nikki tried to put on a good face, but she was clearly bothered by it, and that pissed us all off.

Come one day AL had had enough, and confronted the church member as they were walking up to the house. It wasn’t anything physical but it was loud enough with open windows to hear AL let them know we all had had enough.

The harassment just wouldn’t stop.

From that day on it seems like I either had the city or the police knocking on my door all the time.

If AL took me for a ride in my pickup, cops were called.

If my truck wasn’t parked, by whoever I let drive it, in my garage at night, city was called.

If my grass was a touch shaggy, city was called.

If I was in my garage and dropped a wrench after 10 pm, cops were called.

If we had friends over and we were boisterous after dark, cops were called.

Nikki’s fiancé came over and planted some flowers for me (she was a sweetheart like that)…. Yep city came and visited and I had to have my yard rearranged (so much for low maintenance yard sigh).

All the while somehow Wilma seemed to know everything about what was going on.

Then Mother Nature stepped in to help.

One evening we had a bad storm. In the storm a large branch fell off the oak in my yard and ripped off several rows of siding.

Sure enough city came knocking as my contractor is cleaning up the branches.

I ended up with a notice to repair the siding on the house or face penalties.

Now we couldn’t get the same siding and tbh I was a bit excited to get rid of the ugly yellow at least on the front of the house.

My contractor made some emergency patches to the siding while we were supposed to decide what to do.

Of course this brought Wilma out who informed us that the city code required a “uniform appearance” of the house.

And Wilma was not a fan of my stating that I was thinking the house would look good in a tan color.

She was trying to steer me back to yellow, because my second choice white, would have been to many white houses in a row in her opinion.

He wasn’t going to miss his big opportunity.

Cue MC.

I confirmed with the city that yes, the house had to have a uniform appearance.

Which meant that I would have to at least paint the rest of the house to match the front. And that was really the only restrictions.

Somehow during this time, I had found out that Wilma absolutely hated the color fuschia.

So I proceeded to tell my contractor to paint the house fuschia.

It just so happened that Wilma was away the week that my house was repaired and painted.

So upon her return, she wasted no time coming over to demand we painted it a different color.

My GF looked her straight in the eye and said something to the effect of “it’s such a lovely color and certainly wakes up the neighborhood”

Wilma stormed off.

All’s well that ends well, I suppose.

Aftermath.

That was more or less the end of our direct conversations with Wilma.

She did call the city who came out and gave us the blessing to keep the color.

And she did complain about the “hideous house” across the street to our neighbors.

The officers were also more or less done with her harassment towards us.

I’m not sure what they said or if they said anything, but there was a definite reduction in visits.

About a year later Wilma suffered a heart attack, which she survived, but decided to move closer to her children.

I moved out a year after that, and I found out via said friend, that the house is still fuschia.

I’m glad this guy was able to get better and move on.

Let’s see what Reddit thinks about the whole thing.

They probably didn’t want her either.

Too much time on their hands, clearly.

May everyone have an Al in their life.

No one likes it.

Apparently not.

Mind your business.

Or live next to a bright pink house.

If you liked that post, check this one about a guy who got revenge on his condo by making his own Christmas light rules.