Two and a half years ago, Brooke and I made a move from the suburbs to the city. We spent a lot of time looking at apartments and even more time complaining about the terrible condition each was in. To paraphrase one apartment leaser: Well, the last renter had 83 cats and they pissed everywhere, but I guarantee the smell will come out. She had a flock of Canadian Geese in her spare room too. The poo stains will come out, not a problem.
One beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon we came to the city to visit a neighborhood we had never been to before, Roscoe Village. We turned left off Damen onto Roscoe and were surprised by the quaintness of the street, lined by restaurants and boutiques. Better yet, we found an apartment that allowed dogs that was also in decent condition. We signed a lease the same day and the rest is history. Sure, we have grown out of it (which happened the 2nd day) and are looking forward to owning our own place one day but it has been a wonderful home and has given us our best friends and neighbors.
To celebrate the day we discovered Roscoe Village and our new home Brooke and I bought a plant. It was a small leafy plant in a silver pot. On our way home to La Grange the heat of the sun beaming through the car window nearly killed the sucker, leaving large black spots on its leaves. It survived and 2 1/2 years later it has grown into a small forest. We brought it in from the deck yesterday and I swear at night I hear tiny little noises coming from the center, like Horton's little Whos have set up shop and colonized our living room.
