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Archiver > NYNIAGAR-FOLKS > 2004-07 > 1089762686


From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: Long winded chicken story, Pt. 3
Date: Tue, 13 Jul 2004 19:51:26 -0400


Dear Folks,

Most of the days that I stayed at the Pelican Motel, I rather enjoyed. It
was the same routine. Come home from work, fix a nice dinner, listen to my
classical radio station, wash and dry the dishes and then go into my bedroom
area and watch TV for the remainder of the evening. Then I'd set the alarm,
tuck myself into bed and go right to sleep in the peace and quiet.

However, that's when the enjoyment ceased. I had no more than fallen into a
deep sleep when I heard a loud thumping coming from the motel room next to
mine. I knew that my bed was against the thin wall that separated the two
rooms from each other and no doubt the bed in that room was placed against
that wall also. The beds had head boards. Well, we're all adults so I
won't elaborate on what was going on in the next room. I only knew that the
clean motel had definitely become the sleazy motel.

It wouldn't have been so bad if everything quieted down after the last thump
but just as I was drifting back to sleep, the thumping started up again. By
this time it was getting later and later at night and frankly it continued
until shortly before I had to get up. I had hardly had a wink of sleep. It
continued night after night and it wasn't long before I suffered from lack
of sleep and went around my office like a zombie. Therefore I was also
getting very short tempered.

By this time it was the end of April and the closing of the house didn't
seem to be much closer than it had been a month prior and frankly my
"comfortable" Pelican Motel kitchenette suite was getting on my nerves big
time. I was drinking Pepto Bismol by the gallon and finally one day in the
middle of the week I knew I had had it. I called Phil personally and just
gave him a brief message (actually an ultimatum). I told him very clearly
that I would be moving out of the motel the coming weekend and the choice of
where I moved to would be up to him. Either I would move into another motel
or I would move into the house. And if I COULDN'T move into the house by
Saturday, the original contract would then be declared null and void and I'd
find another house to buy.

I swear I could feel Phil going into shock (there goes his commission). In
turn I could feel the rumblings from his real estate agency as well as the
original listing agency and then the ripple effect going through the two
attorneys (there goes their commissions). In addition, I'm certain that the
Myers family (the sellers) were in worse shock. They had already packed up
all of their things and had moved to Florida.

But do you know what? A "miracle" happened before Saturday, the septic
system had been inspected and had passed and I was given permission to move
into the house on Saturday. I had finally won the battle.

I took leave from the Navy, called the moving company, made all of the
arrangements with the utilities people and within a few days I was all moved
in including the installation of my wood burning old stove that needed to
have its stove pipe run through the kitchen wall. I was one happy camper
with a freezer still loaded with food and my old favorite familiar stove to
cook up some more chicken recipes. I was finally in my own house in the
quiet of the country with no neighbors closer than 300 feet to me. Now is
that heaven or what?? And now 27 years later it still continues to be
heaven!

The end
vee


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