Catching Running Water in My Hand

The housing saga continues, but the end is in sight.

The Fox Island house fell through. Yes, Jay, I've seen the footage of the first Tacoma Narrows bridge collapse (hopefully the ONLY collapse). Don't think that doesn't go through my mind every time I go over that bridge. Anyhoo, we thought we had an "in" with the owner. He's a German ex-pat living in San Diego. We just came from Germany. I like Jagerschnitzel. We'd both like to invade France. What's the problem? His current tenant, apparently tired of the endless line of prospective renters, went with a kindly elderly couple with two small dachsunds. I told him that he should not be taken in so quickly with older folk. They seem nice but have years of experience to draw from and are quite crafty. "Don't get between them and an all-you-can-eat buffet, either."

"Vas ist der all-you-ken-eet-buffet?"

I sighed and hung up the phone, resolved to continue my endless search for a home to rent much like Caine wandering the West on "Kung Fu."

We have the inside track on a house in Puyallup which, I believe, means "Land of Boundless Cookie Cutter Homes" in native Indian. Our house is not very "cookie cutter-ish," though. We're going tomorrow to lock it in with a deposit. The search is almost over, Grasshopper.