Nonconformity in exurbia.

I live in an exurban new-urbanist "planned community", where all the houses conform to a century old design language called "American Craftsman" with a muted and narrow color pallet of dusty pastel earth tones, and all the houses have front porches and white (vinyl) picket fences. The HOA is very restrictive. Regimented nostalgia-tinged order.

I'm a rebellious sort. To differentiate myself from my neighbors, I subscribe to a daily newspaper. I appear to be the only one on my block. I expect the HOA to send notice.