In Regards to the Superintendant

I'll firstly tell you that it is unfortunate that we put this project together so late in my time in this building. I have spent five years here, with many undocumented adventures to behold, but this is not the venue for them at large.

But to put it plainly, where I once detested my 7 other neighboring tenants in this old brick shithole I live in, after all this time I have come to love them most dearly for their entertainment purposes.

Exhibit A; my superintendant, who has not aged a day since I met her, but clearly aged for many centuries prior to my moving in here in 2004.

Now I'm sure this little tidbit will make all that much more sense:

"Why don't you go ask Yvonne? I'm sure she's smoking the real good shit over there."
"Honey, when Yvonne was our age, opium was the hot ticket for intoxication."
"So you're telling me she's over there smoking the really good shit?"
"Yes, while splayed out on her floral sofa with its plastic covering, surrounded by all those Royal Doultons and other knicknacks, she likely has it set up as an opium den."


"How can a woman that old not appreciate WWII big band swing music?"
"It was noise to her. That's what the whippersnappers who peed in her begonias were listening to at the time."

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