The fact that we can't find our land is a major problem. We purchased the yaks in February or so and the kind folks that sold them to us were supposed to board them and deliver them in early-mid April, when we first planned to be on the property. They've dealt with us through several "we should be there soons" and are now at wits end. They NEED to get rid of the yaks.
By the plan, we should have been on property today - or yesterday - or four days ago! - setting up fences so the Yaks would be secure. Today is Thursday, and we have an appointment to have the yaks delivered tomorrow, and have promised the sellers up and down that we will be ready. We call the realtor's office and cell phones but she isn't answering.
Meanwhile we need to get at least the Blazer legally registered so we have one car we can drive. And to do that we need to find an apartment and an address. Fortunately we pick up the local paper and there's a place advertising a studio apartment for $295. We come up with several other ideas while waiting for them to get back to us but none seem to work well. Finally we get a call from the manager of the studio apartments. It sounds cheap and perfect and we head up there.
Rose is a spry elderly lady with a great attitude. I immediately fall in love with her. We put in an application for the apartment but she very blatantly tells us to go ahead and use the address in the meanwhile.
Then we go down and get the truck registered. The ladies at the tag office are pretty fun to hang out with too. Woot! We're finally legal! (At least on one truck.)
We stop by Rosa's Cantina again and run into another of the locals we'd met slightly last night. He's a sweet-faced man who's struggling to take care of his elderly mother and right now he's applying for a job that is probably beneath him, but he's hopeful of having the work. We ask him what his hourly rate is for doing construction, and its way affordable, so hopefully we can give him some work in the near future. After all, IF we ever find our land, we're going to need to get the fence up real quick.
Meanwhile we still haven't heard from the realtor and we're freaking about what to tell the yak folks. Towards early evening Quantum calls and explains what's going on. Our yak lady is polite but furious - and I can't blame her.
This morning we'd met the folks who owned the motel, and they're really neat. They're recently from Melbourne FL. While we were there paying for a second night we met a friend of theirs who's doing some construction for them. He seems like a really nice guy, and we note that he's an electrician, which is something we'll definitely need help with at some point. We joke about yaks and horses and some other stuff, but don't think much of it except, "he was cool" and "wow, good deal, we know an electrician now."
Then I get a brilliant idea. T the electrician mentioned that he has 150 acres and horses, and could we maybe rent some emergency space from him for the yaks? Quantum calls the motel owner, he calls the guy, we set up a call to T for the morning, but it sounds possible.
Meanwhile we still haven't heard from the realtor and we're getting frantic. We can't afford to stay at the motel much longer, we need to get the yaks out to property, and as assinine as it sounds, we can't find our land.
After several tries to her office and cell I try finding her in the white pages. No good there. Then I look at her website again and notice that it lists the cell phones of several associates. Shortly after we contact one of them (he's in Florida of all places!) and get through to her.
She gives us better directions, confirms that there should not be a gate across that road and we sign off, slightly more hopeful.
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