Six months ago I moved from the urban core of Louisville to a suburb of Kansas City. To say the least, the adjustment has been...odd.
Street after street of cookie cutter houses are making me want to vomit (apologies if you live in one and like it). Everytime I drive past a sub-division (which is all the time), I sing gently in my head,
Little boxes on the hillside,Thanks, Malvina Reynolds. It felt good to be self-righteous for just a moment.
Little boxes made of ticky tacky -
Little boxes on the hillside
and they all look just the same.
There's a yellow one and a green one and a pink one and a purple one,
and they're all made out of ticky tacky,
and they all look just the same...
2 comments:
But just like people- I guess it is what is on the inside that counts. I think I have done a very nice job of making my cookie cutter house our home.
I am very sure that you have done a nice job of it, and my intention was not to offend. So sorry if I did.
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