The Meatspace Times

After, what, three years of driving past this brickyard ego-fest in varying states of semi-completion, there are some signs that it's getting cleaned up to - dare I say it aloud? - sell. Yard is cleaned up. Every now and then I see clusters of vehicles, guys moving in and out looking purposeful.



Zillow seems to be suggesting something in the million-twoish range for that side of the street.

Whoever moves in here, and I presume eventually someone will, will have made a conscious choice. It will not be the old inherited family pile that we joke about and grumble about the maintenance and feel some combination of silly and proud about. He/she/they will have had to say, "yes, this house is me. This is where I want to live."