Greatest Hits

A lot has happened in the last couple of days, but most of it I've blogged about already. Weeks ago.

You may recall me devoting a couple of posts after the flood to explaining the wonders of the FEMA's operational methods, which include many well-thought out ideas such as refusing to tell disaster victims which losses are eligible for reimbursement and which ones aren't as well as a dogmatic insistence on communicating with me in Spanish.

Last week, I got an unsolicited actual phone call from a FEMA agent, who very nicely let me know (in English, surprisingly) that my appeal had been denied. The very polite woman even went so far as to agree with me that the agency should probably itemize their award letters to inform victims as to how they arrive at their award numbers, so people aren't forced to appeal just to get an explanation of their benefits. She apologized profusely that the agency couldn't do anything to help and wished me good luck in our recovery. Two days later we got an electronic deposit from FEMA for $700.

We got a letter in the mail yesterday stating (in both English and Spanish) that our appeal was granted in the amount of $692.94, with no further explanation. Sadly, this will conclude our FEMA experience.

You might also recall my posting about the bizarre characters at my local gym. I forgot to include Old Guy With Whooping Cough as one the recurring characters in that story. I would explain him in detail, but the title pretty much tells it all, except for the fact that he absolutely refuses to cover his mouth and generally manages to find a treadmill right next to mine.

Anyway, I really wish I would have waited on that post, because more stuff keeps happening. Last night, the only two people there were me and Mohawk Trainer Guy, who was wearing his trademark flip-flops. Perhaps not coincidentally, we were working out on polar opposite ends of the gym. But he was nice enough to leave, for the duration of his workout, a full water bottle on a machine next to me that I would have otherwise used. I guess he wanted to me to have it nearby just in case I got lonely. Or thirsty. And that wasn't nearly as bad as Air Guitar Guy, who last week stored his iphone on a piece of equipment he wasn't using and then used the phone to check his email after every single set of his 45-minute workout.

I'm assuming he was waiting to hear back from FEMA.