That’s what I call the Neighborhood Association. I phoned them about said “DEAD” plant. Of course I got no satisfaction. If I really want to feel better, I should just go outside and pull the damn plant out manually and get my anger and frustration out. But then do they win? I don’t know. I really do not know if it is dead. I swear it flowered about 3 weeks ago. When my lawn man Ramon comes on Thursday, I will ask him if it is dead, and will ask him to pull it if it is, if in passion in my OCD condition I do not go out at 3:00 am and do it in a fit of pique!
When I spoke to the oh, so nice woman on the phone, who did nothing to help me but give me web sites to write letters to, you can never talk to live people anymore, oh I guess I’m showing my crabby age!
I, in my infinite wisdom asked about the toilet paper in the trees, and she said I could write another e-mail to another person complaining and write their address, which I will not do. What I was trying to say, is do they not have bigger fish to fry than a plant that is trying to survive the heat of the summer?? No, she didn’t get it, so their job is now my job, plus I’m not a squealer. . .so I’ll just leave well enough alone.
Oh well, move on another battle lost by the LITTLE GUY!!