Becky owns a house in Middletown, a pretty little village in western Maryland. The main street is lined with shops, restaurants, churches, and houses, crammed together just inches from the road, reflecting the town's well-preserved 18th and 19th century origins. The town is famous for its collection of Victorian residences on the hill up the road from the business district.
Becky lives in a 1970s townhouse development two blocks south of downtown. The houses are nearly identical from roofline to stoop, varying only in the presence or absence of bay windows, brick or siding, and trim color. The development had an enlightened planner, though. The houses sit around a large grassy area (well loved by dogs and tread upon lightly by everyone else) on a steep hillside that makes driving interesting during ice storms, but also ensures that nobody's view toward the west is blocked by anybody else's rooftop.
The original owners of Becky's house sought and received dispensation make modifications that pay homage to the town's Victorian mansions; Becky lives in the only imaginative house in the development. It faces west on the highest part of the development for an unobstructed view of the sunset and Dulles jet traffic. At night you can see red lights flash from the missile silo atop Catoctin mountain across the valley. Ain't it great to be an American?