"Did the nice lady next door win?"
I laughed.
"She did."
My daughter grinned.
"Good."
Then she looked toward the pool.
"Can we hang these now?"
I nodded.
"Absolutely."
We spent the next hour preparing the backyard.
My wife arranged chairs.
Our daughter carried lightweight decorations and insisted that the balloons had to be evenly spaced.
I checked the pool deck and made sure the outdoor lighting was working.
Everything looked beautiful.
The water was clear.
The lawn was neatly cut.
And the late-afternoon sunlight made the surface of the pool sparkle.
Our daughter stood beside me.
Then she asked, "Do you think tomorrow will be perfect?"
I smiled.
"It doesn't have to be perfect."
She frowned.
"But it's my birthday party."
I put one arm around her.
"Then it should be fun. That's more important."
She considered that.
Then she smiled.
"Okay."
My wife appeared with a tray of lemonade.
She looked toward us.
"Birthday preparations are officially ahead of schedule."
I laughed.
"That's a first."
She smiled.
Then she looked toward the backyard gate.
"Did you tell our new HOA president she could stop by?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
Earlier that morning, our neighbor had asked whether she could review the disputed sanitation notices with us later in the day, now that she was responsible for ensuring the board's records were handled properly.
I invited her.
She planned to walk through the adjoining side gate, which connected the narrow service paths between our houses, with our permission.
We had used that gate for years when helping one another with gardening or repairs.
I didn't think much of the arrangement.
I simply wanted the new president to see the pool in its actual condition and compare it with the frightening descriptions in the previous administration's notices.
My wife nodded.
"Good."
Then she looked toward our daughter.
"Let's finish the decorations before dinner."
For the next hour, everything was normal.
We worked.
Laughed.
Talked about cake.
And imagined how much fun the following afternoon would be.
Then our daughter went inside to shower and change clothes.
My wife drove to collect a few last-minute supplies.
I remained home.
At approximately four o'clock, I went into the kitchen to make coffee.
And seventeen minutes later, the first garbage bag landed in our pool.
The former president hadn't simply wandered into our yard.
Our security footage later showed her approaching the side gate with the gray wheeled trash bin. She looked around, opened the gate without permission, and pulled the bin onto the patio.