♫They call him FLIPPER, FLIPPER,....♫

I do seem to be posting here more a bit lately, and there’s a rhyme and reason. Most of these are dictated while walking the dog first thing in the morning. The walks are also a little longer now, because Pepper has put on a few extra pounds over the last few months and this is one of the adjustments we’re making.

Yesterday afternoon, I ended my latest ill-fated adventure in the wonderful world of handling a real estate transaction. I largely swore them off a few years ago- not because I’m bad at them, but because I seem to attract the weird, the complicated, and the curveballs like a magnet. Plus, I work with people in both offices who do it full-time and with dedicated staff, so why put myself through the torture?

I did it this time, because it was an existing client, tied to some other work I was doing for him, and should’ve been easy. All cash, short contract in length and turnaround time, buyer paying a lot of the things and arranging for them that the seller usually does. It should’ve closed three weeks ago and I was ready to.

And then it turned into one of my usual clusters. I’m having one of these installed in the office:



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The first little bit of weird showed up two days before the deal was scheduled under the contract to close. The buyer's attorney notified me that the contract was being assigned. This is happening a lot in this market: real estate prices are going up so fast that people are flipping them before they even close. Unlike the standard Bar Association/Realtor form of contract, the two- page quickie my client signed allows the buyer to assign the contract at any time before closing and make as much as they can off of never owning the house; in this case, buyer number one was pocketing 10 grand from buyer number two. The second guy already has a FOR SALE sign out in front of the property, where it is expected to sell for even more.

None of this would be of any concern to me as the seller, except I had already had all the title documents, probably 30 pages in all, made out to buyer number one. Fortunately, that wonderful staff in my office that doesn’t work for me, worked for me- and they quickly redid them just as they did the pile in the first place. They got a free lunch and never ending thanks from me for that.

Then we had to wait for buyer number two to set a date. Days turned into a week, then into a second. Finally they said they would be ready last Thursday. I sent over a statement with what money I needed and how I needed it paid. Then, the scheduled morning of, I get an email from the boss of all bosses in buyer number one's law office, questioning a rather large figure I was asking them to pay. We worked out a compromise, where my guy would pay that expense but buyer number one would pay a $747 transfer tax instead. I reflected this on a revised closing statement. Then on another, and another. The iteration numbers of this statement were into the teens by the time Monday morning finally rolled around.

“We are ready,” capo di tutti capi said in an email.

"The paralegal's on her way to your office," he said in a followup.

Then followed a flurry of three more about copies of the documents I have sitting waiting for her at my office, but, among the flurry, was the one I didn't read: um, no, she's not coming to your office, either you come to hers downtown or we'll overnight to each other.  Right, two law firms in 716 spending money to ship papers to Memphis and back. 

I'll be at her place within the hour, I replied.  And indeed I was....

and their check to me was $747 short.

Conniptions ensued. Buyer number two didn't know about that. Never mind my email from Da Godfaddah specifically agreeing to it. Nobody was available to discuss it. We were at stalemate.  And me, eight miles from my office with nothing to do. So I did the only thing that made sense: I went to Wegmans and filled my grocery order for the day, exiting the 190 at 2:42 with a trunkful of perishables, literally three minutes before word of buyer number two's agreement on the $747 term and would have the ca at 2:45.

Seems I'm  not the only one with a Siri problem.

In the end, it all took five minutes. Buyer whipped out the Benjamins and a Ulysses S. Grant; he handed me $750 for a $747 charge and said, Ray, keep the change. The paralegal suggested I put it down as a closing expense for coffee. I replied, Hell no, after the way this has gone it's going right in the swear jar!

The final indignity came when I took it all to the bank. Because this is Not My Money, it has to go into a trust account which I cannot use an ATM card for money in or out. So there I was, paper deposit slip, check and cash in hand, at the M&T drive-thru ten minutes before closing time.... and I screwed up the math. The line of cars behind me was not pleased, and unlike at Timmy's when I screw up an order, I can't make it right by offering to pay for the car next in line.  But we got it done, and I returned home to a nice dinner, finishing up The Fantastic Mr. Fox which actually was from Fox, and checking out the first season of Adult Wednesday Addams shorts that

warriorsavant tipped us to. It’s the addled brain-child of Melissa Hunter, who’s also a writer, not only of this but past on Santa Clarita Diet and soon on Tatiana Maslany’s She-Hulk. She did this YT series essentially as fanfic, and the Addams Leggal Beaggles shut future production down but allowed the content to stay up.

They’re creepy and they’re kooky, and altogether ooky.