LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Out: Fay's Rehoboth Journal - Be it ever so humble,theres no place like ??? |
by Fay Jacobs |
I promise, these are absolutely, positively the last words I will EVER have to say about real estate. I know that reading about my move to the beach must be on your very last nerve by now, so Ill make it short: We didnt settle, we didnt move, were nomads againRehoboth Hobos. (Thats Hobo with a "b"). Do I have the worlds worst real estate karma, or what? Twenty-four hours before moving day we discovered that the builder forgot one teeny tiny detailan occupancy permit. Thats his job, for gods sake. Its like Gladys Kravitz forgetting her karaoke machine. Or Rehoboth forgetting to put up the parking meters. Or me forgetting to shop, God forbid it doesnt happen. So the settlement was off, the moving van was on the way and renters were heading to the condo. I figure I had two choices. I could walk into the ocean or laugh. Ergo, Im the hyena from hell. Nero fiddled while Rome burned and I just laughed while my heroic real estate agent and crackerjack settlement team tried to locate a building inspector. What a hoot! By 4 p.m. on moving day we got permission to unload the trucks, but we had to swear not to move into the house. Laughed, thought Id die. Can you imagine the hilarity when I remembered that Id already arranged for the gas dryer delivery, cable installation, California Closet lady, and mail forwarding. Heres a hot one: If the phone number is transferred to the new house, but theres no one there to hear it, does it still ring? With a mighty guffaw, Bonnie and I did the sensible thing and went for Cosmopolitans at the Blue Moon. "Ha-Ha-Ha, if were too drunk to drive, well take a cab home!" "Yeah, " said my spouse, "where do we tell the cabby to go???" Beats me, ha-ha-ha. Fortunately, friends leaving for vacation offered us refuge in their home. By the next morning, we raced to our 3-bedroom storage unit to meet the closet lady and spend a half-hour surveying the walk-in closet. Say, thats the longest Ive been in the closet since 1978, ha-ha-ha And did you hear the one about the farmers daughter who married the Jewish Princess and now theyre both homeless because the builder forgot to get an occupancy permit, ha-ha-ha. By Sunday night we couldnt stop laughing as we packed our bags at the house wed just moved into to go back to the condo wed just moved out of. When the renters left, we brought back much of the same crap wed moved out forty-eight hours before. What a gas! I thought living out of a suitcase since April was bad, but it was just a chuckle compared to the rip snorter of having our belongings in a whole other house, four miles away. Twice on Sunday night we had to drive up and down the highway to get stuff wed forgotten. Now that was a side-splitter. And speaking of splitting, let me tell you about the kind of headache you can get from all this merriment. Hey, which house has the Tylenol? A plague on both our houses ha-ha-ha. Okay, a real estate agent, mortgage man and a lawyer were all walking up Rehoboth Avenue trying to calm down a hysterical client, when.wait a minute, thats no joke, thats my life, ba-da-boom. "It will all work out," Bonnie said, letting out an enormous guffaw. Or was she wailing. To paraphrase Henny Youngman, take my spouse, pleassseee!!! Or, as Groucho said, "This is the most ridiculous thing Ive ever heard!" "Dethpicable" quoth Daffy Duck. I know! Well just click our Reeboks, whisper theres no place like home, and find out wed been in a tornado. Weve been laughing for more than a week now. Do you know what sometimes happens when women over a certain age laugh too hard? We can fill in for June Alyson as spokespeople for Depends commercials. But were still laughing. So here are Fay Js top five reasons why were still not in our house: 5. On Monday the builder said the plumbing inspection would be Tuesday. 4. On Tuesday the builder said the plumbing inspection would be Wednesday. 3. On Wednesday they discovered that theyd forgotten to fully insulate the ceiling. 2. On Thursday they delayed the final inspection until next week. 1. On Friday my realtor, shocked that I was still laughing, asked me what medication I was taking. Theyre coming to take me away Ha-Ha, Ho-Ho, Hee-Hee, to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time and at least I will have an address for mail forwarding. Ba-da-boom! Fay Jacobs, a regular contributor to LETTERS, is Executive Director of Rehoboth Beach Main Street. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 6, June 4, 1999 |