I drove downtown this morning to file my corrected stormwater management paperwork. I was lucky enough to score a metered parking space that was less than two blocks from the government center and big enough for me to maneuver into (I suck at parallel parking). So I was feeling pretty good when I approached the recorder’s desk. My optimism turned out to be misplaced.
Turns out the document was fine, but the notary had made a mistake – she put her name on a line that should have contained our names. I made several panicky calls to our accountant’s office as I speed-walked back to my car. Fortunately, the notary was working, so I was able to get her to correct the signature page (and re-sign and re-stamp it). Then I drove back downtown and once again was able to find a relatively close parking spot.
When I went back into the government center, the woman I had talked to just 45 minutes earlier was on break. So I had to explain everything to a new person and he had to look up the property information again. Ten minutes and $48 later, I was on my way. Where? To the Watershed District office. After all of agony I went through to get this done, I was not going to trust USPS delivery.
The District Manager had left the office for the day, so I just handed over the paperwork and left, exhausted. Why does everything have to be so painful? At least I have a fun outing to look forward to this evening – taking photos in a cemetery with my dear friend Jane.