My neighborhood bespeaks classic, working-class Chicago style—belts of bungalows broken up by rows of two-family homes and the occasional oddball like my house. But even when a series of houses sprang from the earth looking the same, there’s no telling what one’s future might hold. Witness this two-flat:
I really wish I had seen this work in progress because it must have involved at least multiple paint cans and brushes—and maybe multiple painters, not to mention the ladders. I wonder whether its neighbors are now feeling drab?