My weekend is going to be a lot less stressful than I had anticipated. That would be because yesterday I mmade a reality chick and admitted there is no way I can get this FEMA grant done in time for Monday’s deadline.
I made that decision after spending Friday morning working on it and trying to get someone, anyone, at EMA headquarters for the state to answer a phone call. You see, I still had questions. Lots of questions. And no one answered their hone. And no one returned a call. And I had to sit there and look at all the things I didn’t know and decide I can only beat my head against this wall for so long before I knock myself unconscious.
In the grand scheme of FEME things I cam not trying to procure alot of money – maybe $125,000. But my gosh, this poor guy’s house gets flooded lamost every year. Doesn’t that count for something? I can’t figure a way around the fact he doesn’t show up in their flood plain, which doesn’t have a certified base level but doesn’t stop them for using it as Gospel. Maybe there is a way, but until someone answers their phones and my questions I will never know.
So, I packed it all up and gave up. What a discouraging feeling.
Meanwhile, the township’s fiscal officer is wading htrough paperwork to try and recoup about $50,000 in expenses to the township from the windstorm in September. Her stack of paper is as thick as mine, but then I had a 40 page online application to deal using my stack of documentation and she “just” has to fill out the paperwork hiding among hers. I ffel her pain.
FEMA is a four letter word to both of us.
All The News That Fits 