A few months after I bought my condo I was approached by a neighbor who asked me if I’d be interested in being on the condo association board thing. For those of you who don’t know - if you buy a condominium, there is an idiot proofing body made up of some of the homeowners who get together every month or so and take care of common issues - like hiring landscapers, having the roof tarred, etc. The idiot proofing function comes into play in keeping certain neighbors from doing stupid shit that brings down the collective resale value of our homes- things like hanging a nazi flag in their window, renting to black people, painting their door pink, or trying to cut down the oak tree in the courtyard so they can build a canoe. Don’t laugh. If life has taught me anything, it’s that most people are fucking retarded.

Yes, I’m kidding about renting to black people. It just reads so well right after the nazi flag thing that I had to leave it (go ahead, read it again. It’s a thing of beauty). Our residents can rent to anyone. As long as they ain’t queer.

I accepted the nomination to be on the board, knowing that I can manage projects and contractors somewhat well. I know how stuff works and how to fix things. I also figured I could do something about that dumb bitch who thinks the area under the stairs is her personal storage unit.

Stupidly, I figured that if you are bright enough to own a house, you are bright enough to know how the house works. If not, you are certainly bright enough to learn how a few things work. Simple things- like which circuit breakers control what (based on the big fucking sticker on the inside of the breaker box door with everything labeled), that air conditioners produce condensation, that constant moisture is bad for any interior surface, and that mechanical stuff wears out and must be replaced from time to time. I also assumed that anyone who bought a condominium would take the time to read the CCR (the “rules and regs” that you are agreeing to abide by when you sign on the dotted line) in the interest of covering their own asses.

I was wrong about everything. After two years, I am reasonably sure that I am the only person in either building who knows which end of a screwdriver to hold. By taking on and successfully completing a couple of projects, I have become president of the board. It reminds me of the story of the guy who was crowned king by the natives in a remote jungle because he had a flashlight. They ate him after his batteries died. Now you don’t have to read the book.

This means I get to take time off work to wait for contractors who never show up, change lightbulbs so no one has to fumble for their keys in the hall (I am also the only cat in the joint with the skills and training to use a ladder), go into the creepy basement to change air filters for the girls who are too scared to go in there themselves (I really don’t blame them- it is pretty creepy in there and I may have screamed once when I thought I saw a mouse that was actually just a rat), and remind people that gas is in fact flammable.

Yes, leaky water heaters can explode and cause fires. Congratulations. By knowing that, you are more equipped to be a homeowner than any of my neighbors.

Oh, and by the way, if your television flips out and melts a hole in your wall, the association is not going to pay for repairs and a new television just becuase you write a $200 check every month. When people try to pull that kind of crap and I have to tell them they can’t, I get yelled at. When they refuse to pay and our lawyer puts a lien on their house so they can’t sell it until they pay up, I am at fault for ruining their lives and destroying their stupid gay nazi dreams. On the other hand, I get way more respect than I deserve from most people because I know what a ground wire looks like.

The cool part about it is that I don’t get paid. You may think I’m being facetious, but it really is sort of rad. By simply saying I would do the job, it is imperative that I do it (I’m weird like that). However, I’m not getting paid for it, so in my tiny malformed mind I don’t have to care about it to the point that I can’t sleep at night. This results in a job well done without any of my freaking out. Maybe I’m best suited for volunteer work. Too bad I have a mortgage and I like to eat.

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