Upon returning to our apartment after walking the dogs, I saw our landlord outside sweeping the sidewalk and picking up the debris of the palm trees that had been trimmed during my one hour absence.
"Hey there!" I greeted him.
"That's not your car is it?" he pointed to a beige sedan parked under the trees and next to the no parking--tow away signs.
"No, I'm over there," pointing down the street to my safely parked car.
"Do you know whose car this is?"
"I'd like to have them thrown out. I'd like to kick their butt. They're lucky they didn't have it towed."
And thus the rampage of the no-dogs-allowed-not-even-to-visit, immaculate-gardener, holiday-decorator-extraordinaire presents its morning greeting. Happy to be cleaning, but don't you dare cross him, don't you dare break a rule.
So we like living here--it's clean and quiet and the rules aren't that hard to follow. Also, living under the fear of breaking the household rules is relatively familiar to us both, so it's not that hard to do.