Full House

Running into Next Door Neighbor (NDN) at the market yesterday, she tells me someone has moved into the across the quad upstairs upper right corner unit — Sue’s old apartment.

From NDN’s description of the woman she saw going in with a key, it doesn’t sound like Bourgeois — the woman who complained about living here, moved, and now wants to come back.

With no other units vacant, that I know of, I guess Bourgeois is out-of-luck, after hesitating to pay the $2500 management requested as reimbursement for the work it took to clear her former unit of the smell of cigarette smoke.

Tough lessons for Bourgeois to learn — not only to obey the no smoking rule, but to appreciate what you have. The grass is not always greener on the other side, and the other side can be expensive.

I’ve seen lights go on/off in Sue’s old unit, but haven’t seen a person or furniture being delivered, so I don’t know how the new tenant is managing.

It may be, the woman is one of management’s special placement situations. Someone who was down and out that the County was trying to place, and for which management gets extra money for placing. In which case, donated furnishings will eventually arrive.

NDN says she feels sorry for the new tenant already, because the woman who lives on the ground floor, below that unit, is a complainer; as was told to NDN by the tenant living in the lower right unit — the resident I previously blogged about as having declined considerably, due to bad luck and whiskey, since moving in seven years ago, whom NDN often drives to the market and gets the tea as to what’s going on that side of the quad.

It appears Complainer, who I’ve only seen once since she moved in just weeks prior to Quarantine, calls the office and complains about every little noise coming from the upstairs unit.

Makes me feel lucky to have Illusive Unfriendly in the unit beneath me because, other than when she first moved in, complained relentlessly to the office about my bouncing a ball at 3:30 a.m., she leaves me alone. No complaints.

Maybe because she’s still embarrassed about those frequent calls to the office about my bouncing a ball when, in actuality, I was fast asleep and which turned out to be machines being used in the Laundry Room.

With free time on my hands, after this morning’s workout, I ended up making pizza again.

Instead of piling kale on top, I chopped the kale in the blinder and sprinkled the pieces on like parsley.

I’d actually planned to maker Strawberry Tamales — had the masa, had the strawberries, had the corn husks. However, after seeing a video on TicTok, which video shows what happens to strawberries when soaked in salt, I toss the strawberries in the trash and will never eat another.

Do yourself a favor. If you like strawberries, don’t look for the video, it will change you forever.