"Strange, I usually get some sign when Lilith is in town: dogs forming into packs, blood weeping down the wall." - Niles, Frasier

As you can see, in Texas we either have large hydrants or small signs.

Part of living in Alaska that I loved was the wide-open nature of things. If you wanted to open up a shop where you slowly strangled loud kittens in your front yard with piano wire in the middle of a residential neighborhood, well, fine. Your neighbors might not appreciate it, but there was little, if anything they could really do about it, except see if they could get a corner on the kitten market to drive you out of business.

Texas is the opposite. It seems as though there is a permit for every eventuality and a restriction such that most things that aren’t prohibited are mandatory. Case in point: when we bought the latest Casa Wilder I called to set up the electricity account in my name. Not only could you purchase electricity like you were picking out a brand of ketchup (catsup?) at the store, but the number of plans provided by the different providers was dizzying. One promised my teeth would be whiter if I used their electricity. One promised that their juice would make me irresistible to all females on the planet. How to choose?

Well, regardless of how I chose, I got the incredibly odd message that my power could not be activated until I paid a fee and had my home inspected by the local city. So, I moved from a place where I was free to strangle kittens at will to a place where my carpet would be inspected prior to me being allowed to use a basic utility.

Oh, and I got to pay for the privilege of having my home inspected, fifty dollars. I’m pretty sure that I would need a permit to paint the inside of my house. I’d be surprised if there isn’t a city law requiring all interior doors to be open or closed, depending upon the phase of the moon.

I also have a Homeowner’s Association. This appears to be one of the “cool” ones, where they only give you static if you decide to open a topless bar in your garage, and set to cover charge too high.

The changes don’t end there. In the locale that I now hang my cowboy hat, as I drive home, the streets are lined with well-planned businesses. The streets are tree-lined and attractive. What’s most noticeable is that there are no signs peaking up, showing what business might be where. The only signs that (apparently) are allowed by law are ones that are at ground level, approximately six feet in height.

I suppose if I knew where everything was, this method of signage would be enough. But, if I knew where everything was, then I wouldn’t need signs at all, would I?

I suppose this attempt at beautification was well intentioned, but for a relative newcomer like me, it just makes me end up missing the turn for the place that I want to go. There is a bit of help for me, though. At one location that I passed, I noticed that there was a Chase™ bank. Right across the street from another bank. Another Chase® bank. The Wells Fargo© bank that’s in the parking lot of the grocery store that has a Wells Fargo™ bank in the lobby, well, I guess they were making shrewd use of space, right? I’m only surprised that there isn’t a Wells Fargo™ in the lobby of the Starbucks® in the lobby of the Wells Fargo©. All of these would be without visible signs, so I couldn’t find a single one of them, but would be pretty sure that if I went into a cryptically indicated storefront I could get coffee and a loan.

Apparently, good city planning involves making it impossible to find things and having sixty branches of each bank per mile.

The other part of moving to a new location is: what the heck is in all of these stores? What’s an “HEB,” and do I need something that’s in there? Do they sell things I need, or is it a store filled with neck-high blades rotating at 3600 rpm? I still cannot understand why Popeye would be synonymous with fried chicken, rather than a chain of fried spinach restaurants.

I finally did get a welcome letter from the city, though. They told me I’d need a permit if I had an alarm system. Thankfully that’s only $50 per year. What wonderful service they provide!