Ah, the humble balcony. That sacred patch of concrete where one might sip tea, grow an herb or two, or simply contemplate the meaninglessness of condo logic.
Two years ago, I made a modest request – dare I say, an artistic offering – to paint my balcony white. Nothing scandalous. Nothing neon. Just a calm, unobtrusive white. You know, like most of the other balconies already are.
Enter: The Board. Mildred, Lady Gwendolyn, and their ever-vigilant Committee for Aesthetic Overreaction.
Their response? A resounding “No.” Not because it would disrupt the delicate feng shui of our 1970s brutalist paradise. Not because I planned to stencil flaming skulls or slogans like “Down with Special Assessments.” No. Their reason?
Because the white-painted balconies I pointed to were once enclosed.
Apparently, paint now carries the ghost of its past enclosure. If a balcony was ever enclosed, it may wear white. If not, it must forever remain in its unpainted, concrete purgatory. It’s not about how the balcony looks now – it’s about what it used to be. It’s a little like saying only former nuns can wear white shoes.
This wasn’t architectural consistency. It was metaphysical nonsense.
Fast forward two years, and a few blog posts later – voilĂ ! The same request is suddenly approved. No new rationale. No policy change. Just a miraculous shift in opinion once the Board found itself the subject of satire.
I guess nothing primes a paint can like public accountability.
So here I am, staring at my soon-to-be-white balcony, finally granted the freedom of hue – not because logic prevailed, but because they’d rather give in than be meme’d again.
Next up: I’ll be requesting to stencil “Thank You, Blog” in very tasteful off-white cursive.
Disclaimer: This post is satire and opinion. Read full disclaimer.
