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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

See You Next Tuesday, Tammy Faye Delta Burke Baker, Seller & Crazy Neighbor

On Wednesday evening, Andrea and I drove the cats to her mom’s home. Andrea sat on the bed, looking around the room that used to be hers. I wondered If she was looking for evidence of the girl who once lived there.

“Oh look! There’s a picture of Fritz & Kitty! Those are the cats I soaped up when I was a kid!” Andrea said.

There was an open house at our home on Saturday and an hour into it, 23 people had come through. Our realtor would text us questions on occasion. Normal questions people should ask when considering a home purchase. But in a way, I feel towards this home as I imagine people feel toward their children. This house feels like a child that Andrea and I have pushed into the world that I expect people to see and to love in the way I do. Show us the love (in the form of an amazing, gd offer).

Andrea, the dogs and I had skipped town for a weekend away on Cape Cod. The “cottage” overlooks a pond. I slept late and finished a book. By afternoon, I felt the weight of both houses upon me. Andrea made me shower and go outside into the crisp, cold air. The sun shone.

The seller’s realtor, whom I have nicknamed Tammy Faye Baker Delta Burke due to her hairstyle and Designing Women glamour shot splashed across billboards in Lynchburg, indicated that the seller would sign a release. He wouldn’t have internet access at 5 PM. 5 PM came and went. This morning, her client was “out to breakfast.” By early afternoon, I’d fired off a few emails one of which was to her real estate office demanding to speak with her boss, promising legal action and indicating I was filing a real estate ethics complaint based on my assertion she was in violation of 2 articles of the code of ethics. A realtor from her office called and left me a voice mail within 10 minutes of my hitting send. He’d called her to ask what the hold up was. Her clients “were traveling” but she’d sent the executed release to our realtor at “1:20 PM”. Guess her clients stopped traveling after I hit send on my email. I ranted/took some joy in my victory. Andrea looked at me and remarked, “I like how you’re making enemies already. It’s the smallest city ever.”

“Guess we’ll have to move to Forest then - not Lynchburg.” I offered.

“Guess so.” Andrea agreed.

I feel it’s worth reiterating that what the home inspection had revealed were not small, nit picky issues. We learned the plumbing was something called Orangeburg and were told this by a consultant of our relo peeps:

We strongly recommend that purchaser stay away from this material. It is problematic and will breakdown over time and need to either be repaired (lined) or replaced with PVC pipe. The life expectancy of this product was supposed to be 60 years but due to the problems with the product and breakdown which I am sure you have found on the web they stopped manufacturing it in the 1970’s so any home that has it is about 50+ years old which means if the piping has not failed yet in may fail in the near future just by design. In addition not all home can have their piping relined. We suggest replacement to avoid any problems in the future.

Then there was the rain water gushing through a former electrical panel turned junction box.

While I was taking Tammy Faye Baker Delta Burke on, we got a call from the realtor selling our home. She was hosting an open house at our place this morning and a neighbor came by. Drunk. He returned, still drunk, demanding to see the “cella” (translation: that’s cellar in Boston speak). He said he just went down there. He went back down to the “cella”, staring at the floor, bellowing in front of a small group of prospective buyers, “ I know the walls are raised - I know what is going on here - This is a no deal!” Then, he called our realtor and left a voice mail to discuss our home. What the literal fuck.

Given my run of bad luck, which seems long, unreasonable and widespread, I’m really examining my life. Is this karma? I’m wracking my brain to recall anyone I may have badly wronged to deserve what could be karmic load. I haven’t come up with much that would warrant this crap. I’m weary of crazies - people and situations.

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