Unfiltered Story #47875

Driving between the church where my nephew had just been married and the reception site, I missed a needed turn. I pulled into a small housing development. I was just thinking how boring the houses were because the differed only in color when all of my family began singing aloud:

“Little boxes on the hillside,

Little boxes made of ticky tacky,

Little boxes on the hillside,

Little boxes all the same.”