Neighborhood Narc

The property appraisal people really need to develop a better system, because when tenacious junkyard dogs like me get hold of inequality and injustice, things are going to get ugly the moment I enter the arena. 

I am normally a peaceful person. Neurotic but peaceful. I keep to myself and take care of my business. Still, lurking deep down within is a powerful trait, normally dormant, which 99% of the people I encounter will never have to witness.

But it's there. 
I am my father's daughter.
We don't let go.
We take hold with our teeth, square our shoulders, and dare the red tape to leash us.

I'm not saying I'll go into the appraisal office with guns blazing. I couldn't if I wanted to-- they make you check 'em at the door before you go through the metal detectors. 

Instead, I will use my arsenal of data, and I can guarantee they've never seen anyone so well-prepared for battle.

Unfortunately, there will be collateral damage. I'll have to polarize my neighborhood in the process. 

You see, I have discovered that of 23 identical homes in my immediate vicinity, 13 have been incorrectly assessed for square footage. We are paying for more than we have. We are paying more than our next door-neighbors.

I have also discovered 9 unregistered barns, 6 unregistered covered porches, and two unregistered carports.

Six of the appraisal office's own comps aren't consistent with the realtor's advertisements of the homes, and these are substantial discrepancies. Seven-hundred square feet of additional living space discrepancies.

And that's just the exteriors. I haven't scoped out the interiors yet, but I'm betting there's a fair amount of updated flooring and granite counter-tops.

So, if pressed, I may have to dust off the binoculars or invent some sort of premise to gain entry to these homes. Don't worry, I've been studying up on cover-stories with the help of my Private Investigation for Dummies books. Plural.

No joke.

I resent the appraisal office for turning me into such a sleazy busy-body.

I don't want to spy on my neighbors. I already know more about them from this archaeological exploration through the property tax data than I ever wanted to know.

Nobody wants to be a tattle-tale, either, but come on.

This past winter, I sealed the back door with duct-tape because the draft situation was so out of control. We filled knee-socks with kitty litter to create draft snakes for the windows.

Currently I'm creating a radiant barrier out of aluminum foil to try to regulate our electricity costs against the summer surge. 

Our counters and floors are the original 1987 tile!

There's no way our home is worth $25,000 more than the 22 other homes in the same quarter-mile radius.

We already knew the neighborhood had rats. (Remember Rat Attack?)
It's sad that I've been forced to become one of them.