This is not a pretty building. It reminds me of a 1953 Tupperware that got hit several times by a low-flying missile. It would fit more suitably in Miami Beach.
The inside is much nicer. The apartments are nice, the kitchens are small but have twice the storage space I’m used to. There is a lake in the back and you aren’t allowed to feed the dux, so that they don’t become dependent on people and leave presents all over the sidewalk. You are not allowed to shoot them either but you can pull bass out of the lake night and day if you want to.
There are mostly women living here and they are mostly old and a couple seem a little loopy. Maybe a couple to the 10th power. But if you can take care of yourself you can loop around all day long with the approval of the management. The women are not all named Amanda, Amber, Courtney or Brittany. They have real names that you can remember like Faye, Maizie, Mabel, the ubiquitous Mary, Geraldine and Rosie. On days they can’t remember their names, they come over to my place and I remember for them. I am also very handy at opening vials and bottles of medicine for the shaky girls.
What they don’t tell you when you sign up:
The women like to match-make. I am obviously here to find the love of my life and they keep introducing me to likely possibles. Their choice is not necessarily mine. I think I would rather have three of the ones they haven’t thought of, including the 60-year-old who used to work for the CIA. And who has marvelous and impossible stories.
Awhile back there was a spate of outsiders entering the building at night, getting into apartments and stealing money and other valuables. This was because several of the girls ‘hid’ their apartment keys in a safe place, under the taxus bushes out front. Thieves knew just where to look for a dandy assortment and residents were leaving so fast vacancies were created, which is why I wasn’t on any kind of waiting list. Management got together with the police and the old ladies and did something with locks and new keys and some entrances permanently locked from the outside and the problem is resolved. If they find my key under the bushes now, it will cost me $50 and supper for 8. Donna, down the hall has a 10 millimeter handgun and if she tries to shoot me she will surely hit you. She used to prowl the corridors after midnight, locked and loaded and I believe a couple shadows got dead with 10 out of 10. I am grateful for the locks.
Sorry for leaving you but it’s almost 2 and I have to take my place at the 2nd floor women’s Hen Party. Amazing the things you find out! Ta!
Next time: Moving and Paranoia.
No comments:
Post a Comment