I live on a corner lot. Two years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, a newlywed couple, moved into the house next door. Right from the start, they made snide comments about my bright yellow house.
They would laugh and say, “Whoa! That’s the brightest house we’ve ever seen! Did you paint it yourself?”
“Yup, me and a gallon of sunshine!” I’d say, shutting them up. “What do you think? Should I paint the mailbox next?”
But let me tell you, those two next door wouldn’t stop harassing me about the house color. Every time Mr. Davis walked by, he’d have to crack a joke.
“Bright enough for you, Victoria?!” he’d sneer, nudging his wife who’d chime in with a cackle like a hyena.
She was not any better. Instead of the jokes, she’d give me a pitying look and say, “Victoria, have you ever considered changing it?” Maybe something more neutral?”
Like my house was an eyesore that needed its charm surgically removed.
Their hatred was obvious from the start. They pretended that my house’s color was a platter of rainbow sprinkles served at a funeral.
One day, Mrs. Davis marched up to me while I was planting petunias. Her smile was about as bright as a rainy Tuesday, and she pointed a manicured finger at my house.
“That color is just an eyesore… it clashes with everything, Victoria! It’s gotta go. How about something like… beige… for a change?” she declared.
Clutching a watering can, I raised an eyebrow.
“Goodness, Mrs. Davis, is that what all the commotion outside is about? I thought a UFO had landed judging by the expressions on everyone’s faces. But it’s just a little paint!”
“Just a little paint? It looks like a giant banana landed in our neighborhood! Think about your property value! Surely you can see how… garish it is!” she frowned.
I shook my head, trying to remain calm. “There is no law prohibiting that, Mrs. Davis. I like yellow. It was my late husband’s favorite color.
Her face got very crimson. “This isn’t over by a long shot, Victoria!” she exclaimed before storming out.
Mrs. Prim and Proper and Mr. Boring couldn’t take my cheerful yellow house. They protested to the cops about the “blinding” color, filed a complaint with the city about a “safety hazard” (presumably happiness), and even attempted to sue me! That lawsuit, like a snowball in July, quickly disintegrated.
\Their final attempt? Homeowners Against Bold Colors association, but my neighbors are awesome, and told them to shove it.
Now, those two are about as popular as a skunk at a picnic and alienated from everyone.
“Can you believe it?” my old neighbor Mr. Thompson boomed, striding over with a grin as wide as the sun on my yellow house. “Those two actually thought we’d jump on their beige bandwagon! Absurd!”
Mrs. Lee from across the street chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Honey, a bright house and a happy heart, that’s the motto around here, not whatever shade of bland they’re peddling.”
“Yeah, well, maybe this will finally shut them up!” I exhaled. Little did I know, that was only the beginning of their disapproval.
Buckle up, because things were about to get much, much worse.