Yep. Updatin’s a bit scarce ’round these parts.
Sorry about that; I’ve a helluva lot going on. Not the least of which is prepping to move in about three weeks.
So we called off the search for a dog-friendly, non-ghetto house in the Heights (qualification: one that rented for less than $2,100 per-month), and have instead decided to move into my mom’s old townhouse.
Obviously I wouldn’t classify the average townhouse as a “dog-friendly” domicile, but what it lacks in backyard, it makes up for in transience.
See, we’re still trying to buy a house, and the idea of locking ourselves into a year lease seemed foolish when we could just work the familial angle and be ready to do the “House Pounce.”
That is, as soon as we find one.
Actually I think we’ve settled on an area, which is a good start methinks. For those of you with West Houston chops, imagine a straight line connecting Katy and Brookshire. (Let’s call that line “I-10.”) Now imagine a point due south of the equidistant point between the two.
Welcome to Fulshear.
And for those of you with no H-Town Kung Fu, here you go:
Now I realize that something called a “full shear” is an awful name for a potential investment, but their downtown looks quite a bit like “Katy Proper” did way back in the day. So I’d like to get in on the ground floor, so to speak.
The area we’re looking into is called “Cross Creek.” And, between you and me, I haven’t the foggiest idea what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Is it a command? A small, angry river from the 1950’s? An ordered series of savior hangers?
I’ll leave you with the best commercial of the Super Bowl:
Although, given the parade of uninspired tripe that stumbled by in 60 second intervals, it wasn’t that difficult to come out on top. That was the worst series of ads I’ve seen since The My Buddy/Kid Sister Christmas. **shudder**
K, I’m off. Take care.