What a gal'...

Remarkably, I'm beginning to grow quite fond of the decidedly insane lady who lives downstairs. She still boasts the tin foil surround that covers her entire front window and she's now decided that it's time to jazz it up even further with an A4 photograph of a Biblical scene (possibly a Caravaggio) accompanied by a page of scripture, reprinted for our pleasure. Not only that, dear reader, but she's reprinted them both twice, just in case two passers-by wanted to read them simultaneously, I presume, but not from the same sheet of paper, because that would be ridiculous. What's more, on my journey to the bins I noticed a jar on the step that leads to the apartment office, presumably as a gift for the simple receptionist who's quite innocently dealing with our rent payments and the like. Upon closer inspection I found the jar to contain two rather small cockroaches (now dead, obviously, after she took great care to cover the jar with clingfilm), and a note with the words, "these guys love my place", signed off as 'Apt. 113'. Oh, how I laughed when I traced the number back to the tin foil facade! I'm not surprised, you fucking idiot. It might have something to do with the acre upon acre of shelved cannabis plants you've filled your place with. It's not so much a place as an incubator. I'll keep you updated with any developments.