I live in a suburban area on a very long street. It is actually two blocks connected as one separated by a long ago removed right-of-way set of railroad tracks. With the tracks gone it looks like a small prairie between the condominium building I live in and the one just east of us. But, it is a world of difference.
The other condo is for the rich people who can afford to go to live in warmer climes during the winter while mine is for those brave enough to deal with the snow and patient enough to handle parking restrictions between November and March.
They have a tennis court; we have azaleas planted in the back garden. They have a uniformed doorman; we, a buzzer to let you in. The village put a stop light at their entrance to facilitate getting in and out of their compound. At our street connection, we wait for traffic to dissipate and pray that someone doesn’t try to speed up and clip a car as they rush to make it to the safety lane.
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