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.
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