Love's Real Stories

Claudia planned the move to her new house in the most organized fashion I had ever seen. That’s what troubled me. She was obviously unaware of the Laws of Moving.

“Claudia,” I said, “I hope you realize you are tempting the hands of fate.” I told her about the Laws of Moving, one of which states: “The more carefully you plan and organize your move, the more you invite Catastrophe, Chaos, and Breakage”.

The Laws of Moving have caused well-meaning people like Claudia to drop to their knees, slam their fists on the ground, wail, and gnash their teeth while experiencing Catastrophe, Chaos, and Breakage.

“Oh really,” she said absentmindedly.

Claudia went recklessly ahead. She had neatly arranged on her kitchen counter color-coded room-by-room checklists, and a pamphlet called “Moving Tips to Make Your Life Easier,” in clear contempt of the Laws of Moving.

Making matters worse, Claudia stood at the kitchen table, and with the efficiency of an assembly line worker, stuffed glassware into freshly cleaned socks, then Saran-wrapped the socks into bundles, then loaded the bundles into a knee-high box. With stickers and a Sharpie she clearly labeled the box: “Kitchen/Upper cabinets/Glassware.” When she had filled four such boxes she slid them together in the middle of the kitchen floor and whipped out a great two-handled stretch-wrap roller. She zipped around the boxes three times, snapped the plastic sheeting and stood back and admired her work. The four boxes stood together as one, encased in plastic, wrapped as tightly as a mummy. A chill went down my spine.

Sometimes people violate the Laws of Moving and get away with it. Not Claudia; not this time.

Unexpected Catastrophe descended upon Claudia’s moving day like a thunder-cloud. In fact it was an actual thunder-cloud which became a booming thunder-storm. Claudia’s front porch, steps and walkway developed a soapy slickness as a result of her recent cleaning and washing. Two moving-men crashed to the ground while juggling Claudia’s unwieldy and now-slippery plastic-encased box creations, which began the Breakage, not to mention injuries to the moving-men, the loss of which started the Chaos.

I stood with Claudia at the end of moving day, amongst her soggy and scattered belongings.

“Things could be worse,” I said. But she was preoccupied with fist-slamming, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

I sensed it was not a good time to mention again the Laws of Moving.

Technology has evolved to the point of perfection. We can now complete a real estate transaction, start to finish, without the use of a single piece of paper, a pen, or a stamp. It wasn’t long ago we stood awestruck in the presence of an electric typewriter and a piece of carbon paper. The speed! We were so dumbfounded we dropped our hammers, chisels, and stone tablets. Carbon copies never looked right, though; all blue and fuzzy. At least with the hammers and chisels every copy had the same quality as the original.

The fax machine was a wonder unto itself.

“It’s a what?” somebody asked, “It looks like a typewriter.”

“It’s a fax machine, a typewriter-telephone,” said somebody else. “Just don’t answer it when it rings.”

But often as not, somebody answered it. “Yeow!” they’d say, pulling the receiver away from their head, “what’s that awful screech?”

“Somebody’s trying to fax.”

“Well they better knock it off!”

When a fax document arrived, the machine chattered, rattled, and whined. The document would appear haltingly, little by little, letter by letter, word by word, line by line. The sender of the fax would show up at the office.

“Hey,” said the receiver of the fax, “I’m just receiving your fax.”

“I know,” said the sender, “but I was only ten miles away. I thought it would be faster if I brought you the original.”

“Yeah. Can’t beat that technology, though, right?”

These days, there’s no need to fax, copy or mail. No paper! Everything is electronic; just send, send, send.

The technology of social media is unparalleled. We can keep clients informed instantly with all aspects of the real estate market, at all times. Just the other day I heard two Realtors discussing the wonders of social media.

“Hey, you know the Johnsons over on Camilla Street?” said one. “They’re my Facebook friend, they follow my tweets, they subscribe to my blog, and they get my e-newsletter every month. So how come they listed their house with you?”

“I knocked on their door,” said the other.

“You mean, in p-p-p-p-p?”

“Yeah, in person. Can’t beat that technology, though, right?”