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those?”
    He shakes his head. “I know,” he says, “you have phone jacks inside the house, but there are no wires attached to anything outside. Someone cut all the lines coming in. I can’t hook you up, but I called it in. Someone will be here tomorrow between three and five. I’m sorry.”
    â€œCut lines? What’s that about?” Pam says.
    About four o’clock, Pam says, “Some guy is wandering around out back. I think it might be the cable guy.”
    I go to the French doors, open them up, and say, “Good afternoon.”
    â€œHey, how ya doing?” he says, and walks over. The name on his shirt is actually Larry. “Buddy, I think we have a problem here,” he says.
    By now Pam has joined us by the door.
    â€œCan I come in?” he says.
    â€œOf course,” Pam says, and the three of us step inside the yellow room.
    Larry the Cable Guy looks around, spots a cable coming out of the east wall, walks over, and gives it a tug. It pulls right out of the wall and swings in the air.
    â€œSomeone cut all the cables coming into the house,” he says. “This is a big problem.”
    Larry goes on to explain we need a special service team to come out and evaluate the situation. He can’t do anything. He gives us a phone number to call and wishes us luck.
    After he leaves, Pam says, “What is this cut wires and cables stuff about? Why would anyone want to cut all the cables?”
    â€œI have no idea. Maybe we should call the property manager. His name and number are clipped to the lease.”
    â€œOkay, but let’s wait until tomorrow and see what the other phone guy says. At least by then we’ll have a little more information,” Pam says.
    Friday, September 4
    I am realizing that the cottage offers some interesting challenges. There is only one medicine cabinet, the kitchen cabinets are missing shelves, there are very few hooks or towel racks, no toilet tissue holders, two of the showers don’t have curtain rods or curtains, and two of the toilets are not attached solidly to the floor.
    Each day we make a new discovery. This afternoon I am quite sure the pool has a leak, and Pam thinks the sprinkler system may not be working. I start a punch list.
    Unfortunately, I can’t make a punch list to correct the inherent smallness of the cottage. I am an off-the-rack 44 long, six three, one ninety. There are doorways I have to turn sideways to get through. One of the bathrooms I cannot stand up in, and I’ve already hit my head on the slanted ceiling in the guest cottage several times.
    Then there are the other oddities, like I can’t open my closet door without closing the bedroom door, and no one can get into the kitchen if the icebox is open. But the cottage isn’t going to adjust to me, so I guess I’ll be adjusting to the cottage.
    The good news is that at ten to five the new phone man arrives and by six thirty the cottage has a working landline and internet service. Pam and I decide to live without TV for a while and don’t even bother to call the number Larry the Cable Guy gave us.
    Saturday, September 5
    The list of problems is growing. This morning our pool man confirms the pool does have a leak, but he needs the property manager to okay the repair. I call Benjamin, who is listed as the property manager. Benjamin’s machine picks up. I leave him a message and our number.
    In the meantime, to make the cottage more livable, we need towel racks, tools, shower curtain rods, shelves, light bulbs, and several other items. Neither of us has a clue where to find these things in Palm Beach.
    I discover a copy of the
Palm Beach Guide and Phone Book
in a kitchen drawer. Leafing through it, I say to Pam, “This is extremely helpful. I just counted over thirty entries for jewelry stores, and there are several dozen designer boutiques, ladies’ shoe stores, and art galleries listed, but absolutely nothing