Remember me? I am the woman plagued by Real Estate Misery, also known as: R.E.M.
We are no closer today to having our own home than we were in 2005 when we moved to the island. Plus, a large portion of our housing funds has slid down a hill. And the prospect of comparable replacement land seems discouraging. (We looked long and hard to find Wit's End, in all her glory. We have not seen anything that even comes close to having the same amenities. Plus, Real Estate seems to be rapidly escalating in price here.)
Poor Mr. Wizard, he has been looking at a miserable face recently.
So he has been experiencing R.E.M. also, but his is an opportunistic infection he obtained from me. Anytime I begin to discuss a return to the US, The Wiz grows pale, begins panting and breaks out in hives. (These are the hallmark signs that R.E.M. has been transmitted.)
My R.E.M. has recently been complicated by having our ancient vehicle, endlessly in the repair shop. The Wiz loves his relic from an earlier transportation era, but it does breakdown. I, however, have really been missing the posh and reliable vehicles from our life up North. Not reliably having transportation recently has been a nuisance. And since we are amidst a holiday, I fully expected not to see The Beast until mid week.
Hence, my misery index increased dramatically. Then a remarkable thing occurred Sunday morning. A call from the repair guy!
He had worked on our vehicle all day Saturday (which was a holiday!). It was fixed, and because of the delays with getting it repaired, he charged us next to nothing for the repair.
The repair he spent a holiday to complete.
On a Saturday.
(Stunned silence)
Now, if you have never lived in the US, maybe you don't appreciate what a miracle has occurred here. Let me explain.
In my former home:
- The repair would never have been done on a Saturday. Or on a holiday. Period.
- But let's say that, against all odds, work was done for you beyond regular hours. You would pay triple time. No question.
- And your car would certainly not be returned to your home on a Sunday morning. Yes, friends, The Beast was brought to our door. On a Sunday morning!
- And the repair guy apologized profusely for not getting it done earlier.
I gave him a great big kiss. I probably would have given him more if the Wiz weren't standing there.
I am thinking that maybe our car repair dude should be canonized. I may have to talk with the local Bishop about him. He has performed a miracle which is beyond my American comprehension, a miracle of holiday weekend car repair at low prices. I wonder if he can perform other miracles? I am thinking about instant weight loss and age reduction. Or even better, healing of the Wit's End landslide. That would be the greatest miracle of all. Our R.E.M. would be immediately cured!
livingdominica: I sure hope the car starts this morning...
2 comments:
"I probably would have given him more if the Wiz wern't standing there". Jen, Jen, Jen don't you know that tips are not to exceed 20%?
On the land issue, I think you guys need to settle on second best soon. Can't you hear the pitty patter of Baby Boomers coming your way? Due in no small part to your very good Blog and Ebook.
Darling Tom,
We do indeed hear the gathering storm of boomers, and we had found a small piece we could barely buy on our own and still build a house like a banana shack. However, there are boundary disputes with the neighbors and we could not get an accurate survey. So we are back to zero.
Did I ever mention that things are difficult here?
As far as tipping. Hmmm. So that would be over tipping? I'll keep that in mind the next time the Wiz does something lovely.
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