Today started out early. An email from the president of the HOA of the community where we have owned a weekend cottage for many years. It announced the agenda for our upcoming association meeting. Hmm, she is home, I thought. I had called her several times in the past week about something I had been working on and had tediously pushed through at a community meeting and board meeting for approval. No response. The issue was an osprey platform sponsored by the community in memory of a departed community activist. This is, in the overall scheme of things, trivial.
What was not trivial at least for me was working for hours over the weekend on the application for the project - state and federal approval, plus support from a local non-profit, then driving it down to the president's home so that she could sign it and send it on. Then hearing NOTHING from her after I left it in her mailbox a week ago.
I shot a polite but cool email back to her saying I left the osprey platform application in your mailbox, did you get it, I haven't been able to reach you. She then called and had the decency to apologize, noted that I had put a lot of work into the application, and now what should she do with it? GRRRR... send it on, of course.
Maybe she is overwhelmed with work or personal issues. The point is, I was furious she didn't have the decency to respond. All she had to do is say, yes I got it and will send it on ASAP.
Communication is key.
Later today, I got a call from a newish member of our community up here saying he is in charge of our (tiny) marina and "someone" noticed our boat was leaking oil into our creek. The creek which we have designated as a "living shoreline". He sounded fairly feverish. Gulp. Thanks.
It was a dark and stormy day. I left a VM for my husband who was at work in DC, then called the guy who winterized the boat two weeks ago. He could come and check it out by the end of the week. Please come sooner, I pleaded, feeling like a major polluter. Called our son, he was involved in a work project. Reluctantly called our neighbor, an engineer who knows everything about boats. He and I and Zoey walked down the path through the woods and to the creek. The oil slick was fairly large and kept spreading as oil dripped rapidly out of the boat. I stood on the pier freezing, Zoey sat there shooting me quizzical looks while becoming encrusted with raindrops, and my neighbor climbed up, down and around the boat and finally stopped the worst of the spill.
First thing I did back home after peeling off my slicker and wiping Zoey down was call the guy who called me earlier. Told him we had temporarily stopped the leak and that the guy who works on the boat would come out Thursday. He was relieved and very appreciative of the update.
Postscript: the boat guy never came and stopped taking our phone calls. I want that boat sold!
Communication is key.
