I’l start with, it was my very first time purchasing a vacation rental 100% on my own. I’d asked hubby to check it out prior to me pulling the trigger on the two contending choices but he was always busy. By the time he saw it, I’d purchased it and it was T-4.
Sure, I saw the steps in the top photo and I was only a little concerned. I’ve seen split levels before and there are typically 4-5 steps from floor to floor. Unfortunately, I did not see the “extra” set of steps going even higher until hubby pointed out the effing steps.
Hubby: How are you going to climb the stairs all the way to the top? You couldn’t make it at your friend’s house at the shore- why is this different?
So, I emailed the VRBO to inquire about the steps but I did not see their reply that, “the steps may be a problem.”
Since we were leaving for Florida in 15 hours, I replied, “I’m sure it will be just fine!”
When my mother and I were about 400 feet away, she noticed all the neighbors sitting outside on their corner stoops. I should have simply turned the car around at that point but I made the second mistake of continuing to our destination.
Mistake #3 was that I failed to ask about how one enters the townhouse… and to my dismay, it was 7 stone steps.
At this point, it was torrential downpours and my mother is OOHM- ready to kill me. Meanwhile, I am sitting, trying to keep my legs bound tight, because unlike she who used the bathroom prior and post flight, I still had not. Try as I might, the vision of my mother dragging all of our luggage out of the toy car and up 5 flights of stairs while drenched from the pouring rain, was just too much for me and I had to exit the car. Once again, I lost to my own will and proceeded to let it rip in the rain.
After I changed into what my mother deemed, “that’s a lovely outfit,” we told the owner of the VRBO that the steps did indeed do me in.
VRBO: I have another place; it’s gorgeous and all new…
En route to house #2, and my mother would not get out of the car.
The moment the VRBO lady sent me the address to the new home, my mother and hubby (on the phone) were busy looking at the photos.
Mother: It has a wall. That usually means its next to a parking lot or worse.
Me: She said it was gorgeous, all new and while the neighborhood is being gentrified, it’s a nice area and very quiet.
As we were turning the bend per Waze’s announcements, I could see the neighborhood take a turn for the worse, and knew that no matter how nice the inside of the house was (and it was), there was zero chance we’d be staying there.
It was at this point, I hadn’t been to a toilet in hours, I’d just had chemo the day prior and I was exhausted, and now panicked. Reason being, I’d ordered Instacart to house #1 thinking it was the destination, and now I had no place to store the yogurts and butter that we were toting around.
Hubby: I sent you both 5 hotels you can go to.
Sister: I don’t know why you didn’t just stay at the Embassy Suites; it was right on the beach and we stayed there; it was nice.
Me: I’m not staying there! I saw it and no thank you. No, mommy and I will find a place.
Mother: Are you kidding me? Where will I walk? I can’t walk here? I’m in Kensington! Rochelle, you can’t just look at a place online and rent it without seeing it.
VRBO: It’s all new; this is where I live; it’s very safe and quiet.
Me: I think its beautiful but my mother doesn’t feel safe. You don’t understand her but I need a refund. My husband is trying to book us a flight home.
VRBO: I want you to be happy. I have one more house in Lauderdale by the Sea. It’s worth $1.5 and its gorgeous. It rents for twice as much but I can give you a deal.
When we drove up to the street, I prayed that this would be the house I could store my food, and it was. Three times a charm! First, I actually feel as if I’ve died and gone to heaven.
It was now 5:43 pm when I texted the VRBO to let her know that this would suffice…
Well, the realtor must have figured out between house #2 and #3 that we were Jewish because she texted me this:
*I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t note that this weekend is the Military Air Show. That means every 9 min. another jet breaks the sound barrier causing our toy car’s alarm to sound and me to have PTSD- but what’s the sound of war to get in the way of my happiness?