The garage door was exactly the same shade it had been when I bought the house.
I hadn't painted it.
Hadn't changed it.
Hadn't even cleaned it yet.
I took photographs and sent them to the property management company.
I included the listing photographs from before the purchase, which showed the same door color.
Three days later, I received a brief response.
Violation closed.
No apology.
No explanation.
I shrugged and moved on.
Two weeks later, another notice arrived.
This time it concerned my landscaping.
The association claimed a desert shrub near the sidewalk had grown beyond permitted height.
I measured it.
Compared the result with the governing documents.
Then sent another email.
The shrub was within the written standard.
The management company closed the notice.
Again, no explanation.
Then came a warning about my driveway.
A warning about an outdoor light fixture.
A warning about construction materials supposedly stored in public view.
Each notice required photographs, correspondence, and time.
Each consumed part of a day I would rather have spent working or relaxing.
Finally, I called the property management office.
A young woman answered.
"Cedar Ridge Community Management. How may I help?"
I introduced myself.
Then asked whether someone could explain why I had received four complaints in less than two months.
She checked the records.
Her voice became cautious.
"I see the notices."
"Who submitted them?"
A pause.
"Some originated from board inspections."
"Which board member?"
"I'm not authorized to provide internal details over the phone."
I took a breath.
"Can I request the relevant records?"
"Yes, under the applicable association procedures."
I asked for the process.
She explained.
I submitted a written request that afternoon.
A week later, I received a response indicating that the president had personally entered most of the complaints.
Patricia Holloway.
I stared at the email.
Then laughed without humor.
Of course.
My first real argument with Patricia happened at a board meeting.
The association held monthly meetings at the neighborhood clubhouse.
Most homeowners rarely attended.
The board conducted ordinary business involving landscaping, maintenance contracts, budgets, and rule enforcement.
I arrived ten minutes early.
There were perhaps fifteen residents in the room.
Patricia sat at the front behind a folding table with four other board members.
She wore an expensive pale-blue blouse and looked irritated when she saw me.
During the homeowner comment period, I stood.
"Good evening."
Several people looked toward me.
Patricia smiled thinly.
"Mr. Reed."
I held up copies of the closed violation notices.
"I've received four enforcement notices since moving here. Every one was closed after I submitted evidence showing no violation."
Patricia crossed her arms.