Beach house half-life

The transitory nature of human dwellings is nowhere more evident than along the barrier islands of the U.S. East Coast. What happens to these houses is that they fall in the ocean. This is all well and good if your lot is 3 houses back and you're waiting for a crack at waterfront property because--bide your time--you'll get it. But it's also a bit like becoming Head Chancellor to Henry VIII--you've maximized your shot at power and prestige, but it's only a matter of time before the next nor'easter takes your head off.

It is fortunate that our (and by "our" I mean my mom's) beach house sits on a lot which runs from Old Oregon Inlet Road to the Atlantic Ocean...however far up it may be lapping at the time. Had she and Dad not had it moved back several years ago, it would have been among the casualties of the tide by now. As it is we're a tolerably comfortable beach-front. But it is equally common to have a short line of cottages behind you, with each front-runner falling off one at a time, like bags of M&M candies in a push-button vending machine.

Generally, before each house disappears, it becomes something of a gawkable attraction--a derelict beyond rentability--its septic tank exposed, decks and staircases dangling off, and windows broken. I don't know whether, by this time, any insurance claim could be made, but there seems to be little incentive for the owners to pay haulers to take the carcass away. Most likely it becomes a municipal problem if the ocean gods don't step in with some major flushing action.