My Neighbor Reported Me to the HOA for a Garden Gnome – She Regretted It Soon
My sweet granddaughter gifted me the most charming garden gnome to brighten up my yard. But my busybody neighbor, who clearly has no sense of fun, reported me to the HOA for “ruining” the neighborhood aesthetic. She thought she’d won. Oh, how wrong she was!
Now, come on in and sit a spell, because this story is one you don’t want to miss. It’s not about my dear, late Arnold—bless his flirtatious soul—but about a little garden gnome that stirred up quite the commotion in our quiet neighborhood.
First, let me set the scene. Imagine a perfect little suburb: tree-lined streets, manicured lawns greener than envy itself. Everyone knows everyone here, and the biggest excitement usually happens over cinnamon rolls and gossip at Mabel’s Bakery.
Every morning, us old-timers—pushing 80, mind you—gather at Mabel’s, sipping coffee and cackling like hens over the latest neighborhood drama.
“Did you see Mr. Bill’s new toupee?” Gladys would whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Land sakes, it looks like a squirrel found a new home on his head!” Mildred would add, and we’d laugh till our sides ached.
Life was simple, filled with gardening, gossip, and the occasional neighborly dispute. Then one day, my granddaughter Jessie gifted me the cutest garden gnome, complete with a cheeky grin and a tiny watering can.
“Gran,” Jessie said, “he looks just like you when you’re up to no good!”
And wouldn’t you know it, I couldn’t resist. I proudly placed him by my birdbath, not realizing I’d just unleashed the neighborhood’s next big scandal.
You see, the real problem wasn’t my gnome—it was my nosy neighbor, Carol. Picture a woman who lives for rules and lives to ruin everyone else’s fun. Carol, in her 70s like me, had a permanent scowl and a clipboard glued to her hand, ready to catch anyone stepping out of line.
The day after I placed my gnome, Carol came strutting down the sidewalk, all smug and superior.
“Peggy,” she began, eyeing my gnome with disdain, “are you sure that little… thing is allowed in our neighborhood?”
I smiled sweetly, though my blood was boiling. “Oh, this little fella? My granddaughter gave him to me. Isn’t he adorable?”
Carol’s nose wrinkled. “Well, I just hope he’s within HOA guidelines. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you?”
Oh, I knew exactly what she was hinting at. And sure enough, a week later, I received an official-looking letter from the HOA. Violation? My garden gnome had apparently upset the precious “neighborhood aesthetic.”
I was fuming. But instead of caving in, I got busy. You see, I’ve lived here for 40 years, and I know the HOA rulebook better than most. So I grabbed my reading glasses and dug through it. And wouldn’t you know, Carol’s perfect little property wasn’t so perfect after all.
Her pristine white fence? An inch too tall. Her beloved beige mailbox? Completely wrong shade. And those wind chimes she was so proud of? They violated the neighborhood noise ordinance! I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my tea.
I wasn’t about to stop there. I called up my friend Mildred, who happened to have a huge collection of gnomes from her late husband. “Mildred,” I said, “how about we give Carol a little surprise?”
That night, under the cover of darkness, we launched Operation Gnome Invasion. By morning, Carol’s lawn was littered with dozens of gnomes—big ones, small ones, gnomes on the porch, and even one guarding her mailbox. It was a sight to behold.
When Carol stepped outside the next morning, her screech was so loud I swear dogs started barking three blocks away. The HOA quickly got involved—she was reported for “excessive lawn decorations,” among other violations. Oh, the sweet irony!
And while Carol huffed and puffed, dragging gnomes off her yard, I made sure to take my evening stroll right past her house, smiling as sweetly as I could. “Evening, Carol! Lawn’s looking a little bare, don’t you think?”
She glared at me, but there was nothing she could do. After all, she’d set the rules in motion, and I’d just played the game a little better.
As for my little garden gnome? He’s still there by the birdbath, smiling as if he knows the whole story. And now, I swear his grin looks just a little bit wider!