You could say that Mr. R. and I live in the boondocks. We bought our little Mediterranean-style house nearly five years ago in a community west of West Palm Beach known as the Acreage. The community crosses into the city limits of about four different towns and it’s called the Acreage because every property has more than an acre of land. Sometimes a lot more.
It’s a fresh alternative to living in town in overpriced planned communities with their zero lot lines and their HOAs. I could never stand for some repressed little preppy committee to tell me what color I can or can’t paint my house and what I can or can’t park in my driveway. We don’t pay for sewer or water because we have a septic system and our own well. We’re not worried about lead in our drinking water.
We can keep livestock on our property if we want. Our neighbors across the street, Tom-Tom, a gay couple (both named Tom) whose business is selling ballroom dance shoes, keep chickens and goats around their own much larger Mediterranean-style house. The other day, Tom really tried to talk me into buying their new-born pedigreed pygmy goat. I told him we weren’t quite ready to pull the trigger on the goat thing just yet.
Two doors down from Tom-Tom, the nice quiet family on the corner sold their house to a new family. These folks enjoy creating a track for racing their ATVs around their giant lot. Not so quiet. They also enjoy playing their music LOUD.
It can be annoying. But I’d still rather have them than an HOA. Besides, just because their music is loud doesn’t mean it isn’t good. They played this song yesterday. I love this song.
Happy Saturday night from the boondocks!