I love my landlady. I mean, she's crazy as a loon, but in a good crazy way. She's very New York with a NYC accent and definite Italian upbringing. Anyway, she really looks after me. Almost like my own Mrs. Madrigal from "Tales of the City," except without the pot and I definitely think she's not trangender.

So, today, she and one of the owner's of the building came by to look at my refrigerator cuz it's been leaking. She went on and on to the owner about what a 'great guy' I am and how I'm unemployed and the market is tough and how my rent is too high. "I'd hire him if I had a company; he's a great guy; very smart." On and on (and the rent is too high for him). "We certainly wouldn't want to lose him to another building with cheaper rent." On and on (and the rent is too high and he's a great guy). She winked at me as they left; I closed my door; I could still hear her in the hall going On and On about what a great tenant I am. My own Mrs. Madrigal.