Condo Commandments

Around the time I retired, I posted some retirement commandments. One list was Zoroastrian (thou shalts); the other was non-Zoroastrian (shalt nots). Now that I’ve been in our new home for almost two years, I decided to put together some commandments for living in a condo community. These are a mixture of shalts and shalt nots.

1.     Thou shalt not have more than two household pets. If thou hath a third pet upon arrival and cannot abide a Sophie’s Choice situation, the third shall be kept well hidden in the basement or in a second floor bedroom. A schnauzer in a gingham dress still counts as a pet. The total weight of thy pets shall not exceed forty pounds. This does not include cute clothing or winter booties.

2.     Thy car shalt be a Mercedes, BMW, Cadillac or Jaguar. Or maybe a Lexus, if it’s thy second vehicle. Otherwise, thou shalt not leave thy car parked in thy driveway. Having a place to hide Hondas and Toyotas is why God invented attached garages.

3.     For women, thou shalt not wear low-rise jeans in public, even when just walking down to the mail station. Regardless of attire, if thy mailbox is in the bottom tier, thou shalt bend at thy knees. For men, unless thou haveth a six-pack, thou shalt not wear Sans-a-belt pants with just a polo shirt. A sports jacket is not optional attire for thee.

4.     Thou shalt learn to appreciate Happy Hour and drink cocktails such as Mimosas, Mojitos, Cosmopolitans, Caipirinhas and Negronis. Black Russians and Fuzzy Navels are not acceptable cocktails. If thou cannot abide hard liquor, thou shalt drink only craft beers and rosé wines.

5.     If thou planeth to wear open toed sandals, thou shalt get regular pedicures and shalt paint thy toenails at least once every two weeks.

6.     Thou shalt not place pink flamingoes or garden gnomes on thy front lawn. All home décor shall be purchased at West Elm, Wayfair or Crate and Barrel. Exemptions for items from IKEA or Home Goods require prior Board approval.

7.     Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s Weber. If thy condo came with a grill, thou shalt learn how to use if before the end of thy second year of residence. If there was no grill, thou shalt buy a Weber even if thou doth not plan on using it.

8.     If thy condo did not come with a central vacuum system, thou shalt purchase (and use) a Miele vacuum. Not a Shark; not a Dyson; no Hoovers or Kenmores. If thy condo has a central vac, thou shalt use it at least twice a year; six times if thou hath cats.

9.     Thou shalt carefully observe the recycling schedule. Regular trash goes out every Monday; blue recycling bins go out every other one. Thou shalt put no bins at the curb before 4 pm Monday and shalt retrieve them no later than noon the next day.

10. Thou shalt not practice thy saxophone after 9 pm. Thou shalt close thy windows during practice if thy neighbor has guests.

If you live in a condo community, Lord help you if you don’t follow these commandments.

Five Levels of Condo Quirks

We’ve been in our new condominium for a month. I say “new,” but it was built about ten years ago, so it’s only new to us. Ten years is enough time to develop quirks that require varying degrees of adapting. Quirks can be categorized based on how much they disturb your psyche.

The first level is what I call a Minor Inconvenience. Rare is the household that doesn’t have at least a few of these. You get used to them once you find out how to deal with them.

The first Minor Inconvenience I came upon in our condo was a heavy-duty scrunchy (a covered elastic band) hanging from the knob on the pullout trash bin. At first I thought the previous owner had a ponytail, kept it handy to hold her hair out of the way while cooking and had forgotten it. Then I started poking around and discovered that when the bin is full, it doesn’t stay closed unless you loop the other end around the knob on the drawer above it. I can live with that.

The first Major Annoyance (level two) came with our garage door openers. None of them worked, not even the code for the keypad. I replaced the battery in the clicker. No luck. I tried the other two clickers (that I had received empty). Still nothing. The only thing that worked was the button by the kitchen door.

For several days, we opened and closed the garage door from inside, and exited and entered the house through the front door. Then I bought a new battery for the keypad, too. Success! Apparently, the clickers route through the keypad. You may be thinking: “This was a major annoyance?” Yes, it was. How can someone sell a house with all the garage devices having dead batteries? How did they get in and out? And how about a heads up at least!

Moving on to the third level of quirks: Impetus to a Psychotic Meltdown. These are the ones that drive you straight to the wine rack, hoping to find a screw top. What did me in were the crazy lights in our condo.

Some of them have basic flip switches that turn them on and off. Some have levers that slide up and down, with a subset of levers that have buttons on them, which turn the fixture on or off. The levers function like rheostats, but not in the turning motion that I’m familiar with.

Apparently, that wasn’t complex enough for the builder. Lights that are part of an overhead fan are controlled via a series of buttons, with a primary on-off for the power to the fixture, and a secondary on-off for the light. Have I lost you yet?

Finally, the lights in the master bath and the walk-in closet have hinky bulbs that have delayed illumination. Perhaps it’s to avoid shocking you on a middle-of-the-night potty run or during early-morning wardrobe selection, when you’re bleary-eyed. News flash! I’m retired. I don’t do bleary-eyed any more.

The first week we were here, I thought I’d have to replace the bulbs in these fixtures with higher wattage. Old folks need more light, after all. No sooner would this cross my mind, than I would notice things seemed brighter. I assumed my eyes had adjusted to the lower light. Around week two I realized that these were special bulbs that lit to their full wattage gradually. They’re still driving me to drink.

The fourth quirk level is what I like to think of as Justifiable Homicide—things that, if the seller didn’t warn you about them, give you the right to hunt them down in their new home and kill them. That would be the built in audio system in our condo. Every room is hooked up and has its own volume control. There’s also a master volume control. It doesn’t work. And there’s an On-Off button. It also doesn’t work.

I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the system. The cable installation guy couldn’t disconnect it without losing the cable source. The go-to handyman for our community couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. I tuned the unit to our radio station of choice, NPR, and turned the volume down everywhere. I could still hear voices coming from the wall behind the main unit. Eventually, I dragged the machine out of its cubbyhole and pulled the power plug. Blessed silence.

Which brings me to the fifth and final level of quirkiness, which I reached this week. When something weird happens now, I shrug my shoulders and say: “Who Cares?” Lucky thing for the people we bought from that I’m there. Otherwise I’d kill them for certain if I ever met them.

Designer Dogs for Retirees

I recently noted that virtually all the canine pets in our condo development are small breeds. I’m not sure why. Our association doesn’t cap the allowable weight of pets, only the number (two). But some communities limit dogs to 30 pounds. On the heels of this finding, I noticed that Time magazine included a feature on designer dogs in its “The Answers Issue.” This confluence of tidbits unleashed the idea for this week’s post.

Since many retirees live where pet weight is regulated, I’ve included a number of smaller creatures in my collection. Read the details of each designer breed to find the perfect one for your needs.

New members of a condo community may want a dog that conveys status. The best choice for a high-end symbol is the LhaChiDa—a blend of Lhasa Apso and Chihuahua, with just a hint of Dalmation in the lineage. The Dal parent harks back several generations, assuring that the LhaChiDa will not get too large and will have only small and occasional (not too) black spots. As Chris Farley aka Matt Foley used to say on Saturday Night Live: “Well, la-dee-frickin-da.”

Speaking of Farley, those who have packed on the pounds since they stopped going to work should consider a Porkie. This Pug—Yorkshire Terrier crossbreed is so chubby that just looking at it will provide incentive for you to exercise daily. A word of caution: the Porkie may want to join you on your daily walks. If it loses too much weight, it will begin to look like a Shar-Pei. Ditto for its owners.

Retirees generally make frequent doctors visits, where they’re likely to spend considerable time in the waiting room. The perfect dog to tuck into your medical tote for company is the Dachsador. This Dachshund—Labrador mix loves going to the doctor’s office. It’s sized like the Dachshund, but it’s as devoted as the Lab. And please don’t send me any jokes about lab tests. Or cat scans.

For older women who have become dependent on weekly appointments at the beautician, we recommend the Pompador. This cross between a Pomeranian and a Labrador has the size and pouf of its smaller mother and the temperament of its larger father. Note that if you cross a male Pomeranian with a female Labrador you get a Labramanian. These dogs are used to search for truffles in certain Balkan countries.

While we’re on the subject of hair, a designer dog for those who are going bald is the TerPei. This Terrier—Shar-Pei mix has been bred to perch comfortably on top of your head when you leave home. Sometimes affectionately called the Terpe, this wonderful little guy will happily drape on top of you like a small rug. Your friends and neighbors will have no idea how thin your own hair has become underneath all his wrinkles.

Retirees are prone to bragging about their grandchildren, often exaggerating their achievements and talents. We have two breeds especially for them. The first is the Malorkie, a Maltese—Yorkshire Terrier blend. This is the choice for grandparents who embellish only slightly about their progeny. The second is the BullShitz, a Bulldog—Shih Tzu crossbreed. This is the go-to option for those who fabricate outright the successes of their grandkids, who of course have zero shortcomings.

If you’ve moved into a community where you’re worried about your neighbors snooping, consider getting a SharpShooTer to guard your homestead. This breed has a pair of designer parents: a Shar Pei/Shih Tzu mix on its mother’s side, and a Poodle/Terrier union on its father’s. It looks like a cute little thing, so it lures snoopers into a false sense of security as they lurk in your bushes. Then the yappy, manic influence of its father emerges, startling the intruder into a frantic retreat.

For retirees who are addicted to catalog shopping, the Speagle will be a valuable companion. This Spaniel—Beagle cross is a true hunting dog. It has a storied history of helping its owners find obscure products by sniffing through hundreds of pages in just minutes. You can generally adopt a Speagle online.

Finally, the perfect designer dog for retirees who have discovered the joys of napping is the Schnoozer. This Schnauzer—Poodle creation is at home lying on any soft horizontal surface. As long as you have room for this mid-sized pet, you’ll have company on your afternoon nap no matter where you decide to take it. If you live in a small condominium, you might want to opt for the sub-breed, the MiniSchnoozer. It’s a cross between a Miniature Schnauzer and a Toy Poodle. And no, it doesn’t take catnaps.

There you have it. Ten designer dogs created especially for retirees. I’m here to serve. (You know you missed me…)

Settling in to the Condo

We’ve been in our condo for just three weeks and I’m already aware of some of the community’s idiosyncrasies. We have rules from the golf club (which we joined as social members) and bylaws from the condo association. There also appear to be unwritten behavioral guidelines that neighbors follow as closely as the written ones.

Let’s start with the golf club. It’s no surprise that they expect folks to wear shoes in the clubhouse. And it’s comforting that they don’t consider flip-flops to be shoes. I’m not sure whether the tank tops that are banned are only the ones that Guidos wear down at the Jersey Shore, or if that also includes the sleeveless knit tops that women wear. Also needing clarification is the ruling that men must tuck their shirttails into their pants. Is a straight hem a shirttail?

This last point is important for us, because my husband spends the summer in those oversized printed shirts that are often described as Hawaiian. They’re meant to be worn outside the pants. My husband has a slight frame, and he likes his summer shirts loose. If he had to tuck them in, he’d look like a mailbag with the cinch string drawn tight. I guarantee that his flapping tails would be far more socially acceptable.

Moving on to the condo bylaws. The community is extremely attractive to drive through. Though there are a limited number of building models and exterior colors, they’re sited in ways that avoid the look of a plan book community. And it’s guaranteed to stay that way, because the bylaws state that you can paint your unit using only an approved exterior color. And using the association’s painters.

That control extends to the inside of your unit, at least with regard to what is visible to the neighbors. Specifically, the window treatments one hangs must be white. Or else they must be lined in white, so that color is what is seen from the street. This gives new meaning to “plain vanilla.” It also describes the ethnicity of the neighbors we’ve seen on the streets thus far.

Speaking of what’s on the streets: there seems to be an unwritten size limitation on the dogs here. Virtually every home has exactly one dog in residence, which pet is dutifully walked on the shared greenery at least twice a day. With a singular exception, we’ve not seen a dog that couldn’t fit in our vintage cat carrier. On the subject of cats, Luke appears to be the only feline in the community, but he hasn’t been out and about much yet. He’s still exploring inside his new home.

Returning to how attractive the place is on a drive through. It should be. They water the lawns every morning, even if it rained overnight. Not surprisingly, that much watering is accompanied by virtually nonstop mowing. An armada of lawn care vehicles can be heard in and around our condo several times a week. And since we overlook the 13^th fairway, we’re also treated to the sound of mowing (and mowing and mowing) down behind our unit every week.

Absent that, the place is unbelievably peaceful and quiet. We often wake to early morning fog on the fairway. As it lifts, it reveals the wooded area opposite our new home. Beyond that is an abandoned railroad right-of-way. The tracks run along the river, and though we can’t see it, its presence contributes to the quietude behind us.

The only other interruption of the exquisite silence is the thunk of golf balls bouncing off our condo siding a few times a week. I even found one on our deck Labor Day weekend. That deck is outside our living room, which has a wall of windows about 16 feet high. I can live with thunking. I just hope I don’t start hearing the sound of breaking glass. I suppose that’s just one of the risks that come with the beauty of golf course living. So far, it’s definitely worth it. Stay tuned.

Recovering Stolen Wheels

U.S. cities have been experiencing a rash of bicycle thefts, especially of high-end rides. At least two municipalities have special efforts in place to put the brakes on this activity. Police park pricey “bait bikes” in high-theft zones—bikes with GPS chips hidden in them. In Madison, Wisconsin, bike snatchings were down 40% the first year the GPS program took effect. In San Francisco, once cops catch up with the thieves, they tweet photos of them with the message “thank you 4 taking our bait bike.”

Bicycles aren’t the only personal conveyances seeing a rise in thefts. Retirees with limited incomes have taken to boosting four-wheelers from their neighbors. For some, it’s the only way they can become mobile again. Their families have taken away their car keys, usually because they’ve had numerous accidents. An elderly person driving a stolen conveyance is eight times as likely to get into a collision as a legitimate driver is. I guess they’re nervously looking over their shoulders instead of looking both ways.

The Villages in Florida reports a 60% increase in motorized scooters being stolen over the past two years. These numbers are overblown, however, because a considerable percentage of the reported thefts turn out to be someone having forgotten where they parked their wheels. Still, the snatchings are definitely on the rise and communities are encouraging members to use GPS technology to facilitate tracking down the errant vehicles.

For several condo developments in North Carolina that surround golf courses, golf carts are the primary method of transportation. So much so, that each condo comes with its own cart when you purchase the home. You’d think that would mean none of these get stolen, since everyone has his own. You would be wrong. Apparently, some retirees collect carts the way Jay Leno collects vintage cars. The trouble is, unlike Jay, those retirees are pinching most of their acquisitions.

All over the country, desperate retirees are becoming increasingly clever in disguising their thievery. One enterprising senior had custom decals made with the faces of his four grandchildren. He plastered them all over the stolen Jazzy scooter, assuming that would be proof that he owned the vehicle; but the hidden GPS chip tripped him up. When the ride was returned to its rightful owner, she covered the thief’s offspring with photos of her own grandchildren—all twelve of them. Talk about one-upmanship!

GPS helped track the NC golf cart culprit to a storage facility about a five iron away from his own condo. Inside were four missing carts, none still wearing its original paint. The duffer with sticky fingers also had a passion for painting. He insisted these were all his “original works of art,” but the trackers told a different story. He was forced to move out of his condo community. The bitterest pill was that he had to leave behind his own cart, painted in all its creative glory. It stayed with the unit when he left.

So far as we know, none of these retirement developments has made the foray into baiting conveyances yet. The four-wheelers that have been stolen all belonged to seniors who simply left their rides in the wrong place at the wrong time, something seniors are particularly adept at.

If the stealing trend continues to escalate, expect the condo police to mimic the professional ones in SF and Madison. They’ll leave shiny, tricked out Jazzys with GPS in tempting spots for unsuspecting seniors. When they catch up with the culprits, they’ll hand them cards that read: “You’ve been taken for a ride on my bait scooter.” Then they’ll spend two frustrating hours explaining what a “bait scooter” is and how GPS works. Come to think of it, that’s probably why they’ve been in no rush to roll with the new technology.