To be fair to the squirrels, they weren’t the only sentient beings who were unclear about the exact locations of the property lines in our cul-de-sac.
In fact, I’m guessing that none of my neighbors realized that they were driving on somebody else’s property every time they rolled out of their garages, or that they were stepping on somebody else’s property every time they walked to the mailboxes that stood near the entrance to our mini-neighborhood.
The seven houses in the cul-de-sac are dissected by property lines that are so convoluted that it’s literally impossible for any of us to drive from the street to our homes and back without crossing over somebody else’s property. But until Sonia bought the house next door to us, nobody cared where those property lines were.
To get from one part of our property to another, Donna and I had to take maybe six steps on the outer edge of Sonia’s driveway, a process that resulted in our being on her property for about ten seconds. Sonia apparently took great exception to this grievous violation of her property rights. And so, if we took even a few steps on her driveway, she would stick a camera in our faces and wave us away. Or she’d call the police. Or both.
It got to the point where, every time Donna went outside to wash the windows on the north side of our house, she was afraid that Sonia was going to storm out of her front door, angrily confront her, and order her off the property. (I once saw Sonia squirt Donna with a garden hose while Donna was standing on our own front lawn, something Sonia denied doing a few seconds after I’d watched her do it.) And every time I walked to that side of our house to change the batteries in our security camera, I had to wonder whether I was going to get another visit from the police. (Sonia once called 911 because I had slightly shifted the position of a sharp stick that protruded from one of her flowerpots so that it would be less likely to impale me as I squeezed past it on my way to my circuit-breaker box.)
One of the most frustrating aspects of this whole situation was that Sonia had to drive across my property in order to get in and out of her garage! It was legal for her to do that because she had what is called an “easement,” which means that the subdivision’s “Deed Restrictions” gave her the right to drive down what appeared to be “her” driveway – although some of it was, in fact, our property.
I’m not a lawyer, but my reading of those same confusing Deed Restrictions suggested to me that my wife and I also had an easement, and that our easement allowed us to legally take a few steps on Sonia’s driveway if that’s what we needed to do to adequately maintain our property.
But Sonia refused to talk to me about it. So I decided that it was time for me to talk to a lawyer.
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