Signore's prerogative

I'm glad he's not going to New York or Texas or Mississippi or wherever he was planning after all. My artiste friend decided to stay put in the building--with the caveat that he be given More Space To Paint. Okay, we could do that. He's vacated his third floor studio for a ground floor one-BR, and is happy as the proverbial clam (apparently, the happy clam is the one that missed the chowder pot.) So now Signore's latest dramalet is put to rest under a nice, fuzzy blankie and all is well.

One of the first things he did after being given the keys to his new place was to call and report a stranger outside his window, in front of the building, barfing into the bushes. At least the man was considerate enough to aim for the wood shavings and mulch instead of the sidewalk or walls.

I love this place.

And another, and another

So now Signore Roderigo, my across-the-hall neighbor, has given his (tentative) 30-day notice. Roderigo is an exceptionally gifted and skilled painter. Last year he closed his gallery/studio here and moved to a large city in the Southwest to pursue his career, but was back six months later saying he hated the place and missed the Pacific. Cost him over $20K for the experience. Well, now New York City beckons. I do believe he has the talent to make it in the art world. I've seen his stuff. Whether he can handle the people in it--or they can handle him--is another matter. He certainly has the piercing eyes and artistic temperament to match, along with no lack of self esteem. I find him funny, aloof, vulnerable, inscrutable, profound, superficial, and of course eccentric, all at once or in varying degrees depending on the day. I do know one thing--he sure can put on one heck of a dinner party! I hope he knocks NYC dead, and that he stays alive in the process. I will miss him. Again.

KC is moving out from the apartment next to mine today. She has a team of friends and her dad to help her down the three flights with all her furniture and whatnots. Her former boyfriend Tim stays till the end of September, then he's moving back in with his dad. I'm imagining how it will feel for him to come home from work today and find KC's belongings missing--like looking into a mouth with a bunch of teeth knocked out. They were together for several years, and here for the past year and a half. I don't know who instigated the breakup, but Tim seemed really sad when he told me, and KC was crying a while ago when she brought me her keys.

They're all young and will get over it. However, with Roderigo's news, we'll have three units out of five emptied in less than a month, just on this floor. I'll just have to break in another whole set of personalities before Christmas.

Sigh.

The repairman cometh

We have 17 units in these two buildings--15 in the front and two over the rear garages. As of this writing, five are unoccupied and one is in 30-day notice. This is the most we've ever had at once since I've been managing, and it doesn't take much pondering to see how the economic hard times are affecting the rental business. People are losing homes in droves, which should be good for rentals. Unfortunately, it also means many have lost their jobs (hence the foreclosures) and/or now have credit scores somewhere in the vicinity of their IQs (hence the foreclosures), which is not so good for rentals.

A very nice young woman, Maria, is moving in just below us. At least she seems very nice. The apartment has been empty since April and we've kinda gotten used to having no one hearing the effects of our (make that my) clumsiness, particularly things dropped in the kitchen at 1 a.m. She's been warned and still wants to live here anyway, so that's a good sign.

A new 5-man maintenance crew has been hired, replacing the incompetent and careless (but hey, CHEAP!) bunch that the owner foisted upon us before. Thank God for the property management company that is holding his feet on this one! I am soooooo past sick of workers not bothering to show up three weeks after they'd said they'd be here, and not returning my calls. These guys worked here before, but Owner thought they were too expensive and sent Fly By Night Enterprises instead. Now most of what they supposedly did has to be redone, naturally.

At least I will now be able to get my living room ceiling repaired after the water damage of 2002, and my kitchen also patched and painted--something promised and unfulfilled since 1996.

His eye is on the sparrow

The entrance to the basement laundry room is directly below my living room window (well, four flights down) and for the past couple of days I heard a plaintive chirping sound emanating from there. Yesterday I went to check and found two little sparrows frantically hopping around the corner of the stairway landing. We annually have lots of these birds nesting around here in the Spanish tiles out back, but I've never seen this behavior before. The larger of the two was hopping more slowly and chirping at a lower volume than the other. I approached them to see if I could help somehow; but of course they totally wigged out, monster that I am, so I left them alone.

The chirping and hopping kept up all day and into the night. Then I noticed this morning that only one bird was still making a noise. When I went to investigate, the larger bird was, of course, dead. I wanted to move the sad little corpse away, but the remaining sparrow acted as though she'd go all Hitchcock on me, so I backed away and left her there with her fallen mate. Her mourning continued all day, the sound of intense sorrow and alarm. There were a couple of moments wherein I wondered if I shouldn't just deal with the dead bird and chase the other away, because it was so hard to listen to; but I got the sense I would be disturbing something almost holy.

Early in the evening there was silence. I walked down knowing what I would find--and there they were: Jack and Nancy Sparrow, lying Romeo and Juliet-like on the cement and already covered with little ants, their story done.

What else could I do but give them a resting place behind a green Eugenia bush?

The ever constant

Not only did Robbie on the first floor move out today, but now the sweet young couple next to us gave their notice, too. Apparently they're going their separate ways. I enjoyed their laughter and friendliness, the bottles of wine and food gifts, and especially the fact that they didn't care if I washed my dishes at 1 a.m.-- a big deal, since my kitchen shares a wall with their bedroom.

Robbie gave me flowers, the first tenant to ever do so. Wow. He's the one who talked me into trying the loquats that grow outside, and I found I really like them. Now his job has gone >poof< and so it's back to the Bay Area with the family. Robbie, we hardly knew ye.

Now we have four empties, and a whole lot of changing of the name register on the front porch coming up.

The Eyrie, Too is now OPEN

My habitation is The Eyrie, situated on the top floor of a 1927 Mediterranean style brick front apartment building in a mid-size West Coast city. From its windows I see my little world as it occurs; within its walls I see plenty, too. I've lived here since 1996 (only one tenant has a longer tenure.) For nearly five years I've been the on-site manager, which is another way to say "Cleaning Lady/Resident Mom with Limited Authority/She Who Is Summoned When Keys Are Locked Inside".

This is not earth-shattering reporting here, no political opinion or wisdom for the ages. It's a goofy little blog that exists simply so I can chronicle my life here. Nothing more. I want to remember the silly things that remind me of an episode of Seinfeld, and the small pleasures that lift me up. Occasionally I will vent, for the manager's life is one of mastering the art of smiling while really, really wanting to yell at someone. At other times I'll probably bore even myself. Life is like that.

Welcome to my home.