He Buys Ugly Houses!
I am blessed to live in a beautiful master-planned community, nestled in a suburb of Houston, TX called Sugar Land. Shaded by clusters of towering pecan, oak and elm trees, residences in our subdivision are reminiscent of those charming cottages and farmhouses of old, their facades adorned with a patchwork of brick, stone and wood. Structures sit atop perfectly manicured yards, where grasses enjoy weekly military cuts and stand ever-proudly at attention. Garden beds, bursting forth with colorfully blooming bushes and flowers, hug home exteriors and their precious porches. Lovely and welcoming, houses here beckon visitors to “Come in and stay awhile!” It’s all very Southern, really. It’s been said that there are exceptions to every rule, and one of those is located just down the street from me. Some would term it a “fixer-upper.” The house appears to be unoccupied, once again, for the garage door never rises, the driveway is unpopulated, and lights remain in the “off” position. The gras