Whoa, I had the hardest time getting out of bed today, and now, post-blueberry pancake time, I can't get off the couch. Plus I let it slip to Tom that my cousin and her fiance are moving to Salem, but I didn't find out about it till after the short sale offer on the house was in. It's just, EVERYTHING about that goddamn house is like the worst timing ever. So we're both kind of sitting around, bummed out about it, and annoyed about being bummed out about it. UGH.
Maybe I should just go back to bed.
I'm much better today. Thanks for your concern.
I am both pissed off and confused, however. A guy from the county came by yesterday and cited me for "weeds and grass above 12 inches" and "storing debris." I have maybe 30 square feet on the one side that the neighbor keeps mowed, but otherwise it's liriope and ornamental rye grass. His "weeds" were perennials not in bloom at the moment and his "storing debris" was the part of the carport that was knocked off by the hailstorm last week, which I was breaking up to be picked up by the garbage people. I don't think a week is really "storing." I tried to get him to be more specific, but that was as close as I got. I even threw the C word out there and he said, "Can't you get some church people to help you?" No, DeKalb County, I don't happen to have "church people" in my back pocket.
I'm sure he was on the street because the house that was foreclosed on two doors down does indeed have an entire yard full of grass more than 12" long. They can cite the bank and bring in a mower for that one, but I can't imagine what they could do to "clean up" my yard.
My neighbors on both sides are as baffled as I am.
I even threw the C word out there and he said, "Can't you get some church people to help you?"
::blinkblinkblink::
For real though, whatever the fuck, guy.
Jesus, Ginger.
(that was not a suggestion of whom to call, by the way)
Jackass. (lawn guy, that is)
Really? REALLY, County Asshole?
That guy needs a kick in the nads.
TCG says appeal if you have the energy to.
Huh, you've got our neighbors, who peer over the fence on a regular basis to look for things to report us to the city for. (The neighbor two doors down is hoping to harass us into leaving so he can back a very low-ball offer to our landlord to buy the house so he can add it to the two others on our side of the street in his collection.) Hubby pointed out that he had lots of time to spend on red tape and would be happy to have as many meetings with city officials as it would take to get this settled--and whomever was going to put their name on the complaint had better be there. Interestingly enough, no one showed for the third meeting, and Hubby had a copy of city regulations that he had marked. Bureaucrats don't like people who can look up cited regulations and have the intelligence to read legalese.
Fuck that, Ginger. Ridiculous.
Sorry y'all are feeling bummed, Nora. I think it's time to shift into summer mode - aka not doing fuckall unless absolutely necessary, and refusing to care much about anything because it's just. too. hot.
Oo Ginger, how frustrating!
